


ST:V - Transitions

by bearblue, Llachlan



Series: Wonders of the House Presba [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Complete, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 113,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearblue/pseuds/bearblue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llachlan/pseuds/Llachlan
Summary: The effects of the changes, which happened in Modifications, begin to be felt in various quadrants. The Orion Syndicate is poking holes in the Universe just to find a short cut to the Gamma Quadrant. The House Presba becomes involved in a fight of Honor in the Beta Quadrant.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The same disclaimers that were in Modifications, apply here. I can't remember anything that's too egregious, but I'll point out that Star Trek isn't exactly a "safe" universe. Things happen here. This does include death (though not the main characters in this story - so no warnings for that apply). It does include some violence (but I don't tend to get very super gory, but it's hard to know what counts as gory) and there is, technically, sex (though, what I consider mature vs explicit is really unclear to me in the context of this site, so I just settled on explicit to be sure). YMMV does apply here. Also: AU, so very AU, with a lot of "fill in the blanks" on my part. 
> 
> I think that covers most of this... Oh, right... don't own the series. But this is an homage. Enjoy.
> 
> Oh, and I'll hopefully be able to edit this part, but this one may be added to haphazardly over the weekend. Might finish it up in the morning, might not. Depends on how things go. If it gets done, I'll erase this bit. :)

Things were quiet in the Delta Quadrant at the moment. Captain Kathryn Janeway was walking the corridors as she was wont to do once she woke up from her nightmares. At least now when she awakened, someone was there with her. They would kiss the tears away, hold her, and things would proceed one way or another from there.

There was no pressure from her loved ones. They didn't try to cure her, but simply made themselves available. Like her, they knew there were valid reasons for the dreams. Sometimes she even went right back to sleep, knowing they watched over her – always. Other times, she went for a walk. It had become a habit that she and the crew enjoyed. It gave her time to think, to reconnect with where she was in time and space. And to reconnect with who she was.

Just a few short months ago she'd been a white haired Admiral of Starfleet in a struggling Federation. But due to her own need to meddle and fix the past, she'd found herself in this new reality. Where once again she was captain and once again she was faced with choices. Only, things had not gone quite according to plan. She'd intended to do better. And on the whole, she thought things were better for the ship and her crew. But those changes had come at high cost – in lives and fundamental alterations in the fabrics of their lives.

Some results, admittedly, were better than others. In this Universe, she had a full blown family. She was still amazed at that; still wandering around with wonder at it all.

She had a momentary mental jab, as she reminded herself once again to have a little talk with Chakotay.

Her mates were becoming a bit antsy with the way he was behaving. And she was aware that the attention he was pointing her way was making them more than just a little uncomfortable. She felt it in them.

It wasn't that she and her mates were mind readers or constantly in one another's mental space. The bond wasn't about telepathy, at least not in the usual sense. That only seemed to happen during actual mating or emergencies. There might be other points of mental touch, but they were still exploring their relationship. It was still new.

At the moment, it was more of like a unique sense of each other. Their thoughts were their own, remained unshared in general. But at the same time, there were points of crossing, like when they made love or when the urgency of the bond was upon them. It was less telepathy and more what she understood empathy to be. They felt one another, inside up to a certain point. And yet, they did not necessarily take on the other's feelings. If Janeway was cranky, it did not make her mates testy too. If Janeway had desire, they did not necessarily spark instantly to attention.

And if there were points where their empathy deepened, sometimes, well, she couldn't explain the how and the why, except in part. If Tuvok was near, touching them, their connection increased. It made sense, since he was a touch telepath. And she could hear him, if he put his will to it, whether he was touching her or not. But that was not all the time. Emergencies. Important events. The mating fire. Calling to one another. That was when the bonding connection seemed to increase its bandwidth, so to speak. Otherwise, it was just a low-level hum of life; a very pleasant brightness.

One thing about it, she did find herself experiencing a level of trust she never thought would be possible for her as captain. She trusted her mates, both as family and as members of her crew.

But it didn't change her problem. Her mates were being affected by her first officer's behavior and there was a gathering storm of conflict that might be headed Chakotay's way if he didn't cool it with the come-ons. Lately he'd been hinting that now that the adventure with the Zakeeri was done she didn't need to carry on the charade any more.

He simply didn't realize yet that the ship had sailed.

And what a journey it had been.

A sultry smile curved on her face for awhile. Months ago that would have seemed out of place to a passing crew person. But most, aside from the oblivious Chakotay, knew where that smile was coming from. In fact, quite a few had similar kinds of moments themselves for their own loved ones. The maze of mines had been life altering.

It could have been just as joyful for Chakotay if he'd been open to it. Certainly the opportunity had been presented to him. He just chose a different path.

Now though, he was pushing for a bruising, by one of her mates - probably not Seven or Tuvok, though she could be mistaken about that. She still remembered how Tuvok had flung Chakotay about during the anomaly. And Seven of Nine was much more passionate than she sometimes appeared. But it was Laren who saw Chakotay behaving in disapproving ways daily and it was wearing on her. And B'Elanna was Klingon, more so now than before the events of the Maze of Mines. One of these days he would say the wrong thing and she'd be lucky to keep him in one piece and then she'd have to throw one or both or all of her beloveds in the Brig. There were just some things that captain's orders couldn't prevent.

That thought made her sigh. Not that there hadn't been moments within herself that only strength of will had kept her rational and her knife out of his back. She thought briefly of her right boot and the sheathed blade hidden there and was briefly grateful for that distance. If her knife had been at her belt... she shuddered to think. Lately she had been experiencing strong swings in emotions. That could be the result of anything. It could be that she was not sleeping completely through the night. It could be that there physical changes that she hadn't adjusted to. It could be Kahless had poked a hole in her normal complacency. Or it could just be one of those things, because sometimes Chakotay was maddening. She was just noticed it more lately.

Thank God they weren't married.

Yep, she was going to have to have a serious discussion with her First Officer. She'd just have to remember to prioritize it. There were so many other things on their plate right now – between acclimating their new Zakeeri crew to discovering the new qualities of Voyager to building that wonderful Park upstairs. If the new hydroponics garden was any indication of what was to come, she really looked forward to being able to walk there. Kathryn had let the crew talk her into waiting on visiting the Park. Though, as captain, she did like to check in on things. She stayed apprised by talking with her officers, Voyager and following ship's gossip, which indicated that marvelous things were happening. On the other hand, if it went on too long, she'd take advantage of captain's privilege and go look anyway.

But she would hate to disappoint her crew. And she did have so many other things on her schedule anyway.

Thinking of schedules, at least now she was able to begin allowing time for family rather than emergencies. And she found it amazingly fulfilling. If someone had told her that a real family life could be built on a ship, especially with her responsibilities, she would have scoffed. She could only vaguely remember being on a ship as a young child. Most of her childhood had been spent growing up in a traditional home in Indiana. She knew that had to do with decisions her father and mother had made about quality of life and education. She could not fault them for it.

But, she was beginning to realize that there were valid alternatives. And perhaps it was easier because the full weight of motherhood was not solely on her shoulders. In fact, she barely felt the weight of it at all. She knew this was due to the unstinting efforts of her mates, who were aware of her responsibilities as Captain. And so they worked it so all she had to really worry about was indulging their children and only rarely disciplining. Which was good for her, since she very much loved seeing their children enjoy themselves.

On the other hand, she would and did do what needed doing as it was called for.

That incident in the Painted Dogs' quarters had been out of hand. Funny, but wrong. Harry, Tom and Icheb had painted the novice Zakeeris' quarters and everything that wasn't locked up tight - a bright neon yellow . She wasn't sure how Harry and Tom had led the normally reserved Icheb down the rosy path, but she knew what to do to make them pay for it. She put them on maintenance detail for a week – with Lieutenant Ro in charge of the assignments.

They had all groaned at that particular announcement and rightly so. Lieutenant Ro happened to know, very well and personally, all the worst possible jobs that could be found on a Starship. She had them digging through the muck in no time.

In fact, Kathryn speculated that it was possible that their dear Laren had managed to get Voyager in on the endeavor. Voyager had a real knack for creating grunge.

She'd also had a long talk with Voyager about reporting vandalism on the ship after that particular prank. But then had to acknowledge that there were issues of privacy and security. Voyager promised that she would not let anything that was dangerous happen, but unless Kathryn wanted her to be a spy, she might want to reconsider the demand that Voyager report every little misdemeanor and joke.

The captain had realized the ship had a point. Especially since she knew that there were certain “crimes” that were traditional and kept life on a ship interesting, such as the ship's still and certain types of pranks. That didn't mean that Kathryn would stint on the disciplining when necessary.

She had, though, been very sure to hug Icheb when he returned home rumpled, dirty and smelling like a Larganian Sewer Rat. She'd wanted him to know that though he must suffer the consequence, she still loved him.

At least, she hoped that was the message she'd gotten across. After all, a captain did not hug the person they were punishing. Only a mother did. This... parenting thing... was still new and strange to her. But she thought she did the right thing.

It was at moments like those that she honestly wished she could just call up Indiana and get some input from an expert.

==^==

The Federation Starship Bradbury, currently located in the Alpha Quadrant, was in Gamma Shift. Gretchen liked this time of “night,” when things went quiet on board the normally bustling vessel. Even though the ship was comparatively small, there were still plenty of things for the crew to do. Even then, Gretchen was fairly sure that this was not how Captain Stevenson intended to spend his time, given the War with the Dominion.

But here they all were, heading towards an another necessary destination. She thought perhaps they were heading back to the Beta Quadrant and the Klingon Empire. Miral Torres of the House Presba had business in that direction and... two of her daughter-in-laws, also of the Klingon House Presba, were Ambassadors.

It felt s strange to think that. Two of... six. Five daughter-in-laws and one son-in-law. Seven total in a group marriage forged over an incredible distance and odder circumstances.

Gretchen Janeway's mind boggled.

What surprised her was that she believed it at all. After all, she only had the word of a Betazoid, Two Vulcans and a Klingon. Yep, only the word of the most honor-bound species in ... well... anywhere. That sort of cut the legs right out of disbelief right there.

And, apparently, as the mother of one of the members of this marriage, she was an honorary member of the House.

Wait. She wasn't entirely sure of that.

It was probably just what Miral had said before. She and Phoebe had been affected by an indescribable phenomenon. Whether that meant they were also of the House might be up for debate. No one had said specifically.

One of the changes induced by the phenomenon included that her body was decades younger. It was still a shock to look in the mirror and see herself as she was, so very long ago. And even that was new... improved. It was more than she had been. As Lwaxana had pointed out, the same had occurred for all of them. They had none of them looked this good when they were younger.

Gretchen was not acclimating to it as well as one might think. Her friends might think it was wonderful. But some things shouldn't just be dropped on one's shoulders overnight. On the other hand, Phoebe seemed to take it all in stride. But then, she'd been much younger to begin with. Damn it.

Gretchen felt a real loss. She'd really liked the way she'd looked before the change. She missed the wrinkles, the way her skin flexed in amusement. She wasn't vain, but she'd known that she had remained attractive, but with that hint of wisdom that age gave a body. Now one had to look carefully to spot that she had already lived a long life and had time's lessons well in hand. She'd earned her status as crone.

Then there was this... constant need to be doing. She'd always been an energetic woman. Now it seemed like she was overflowing. And all the things she would ... traditionally ... be doing, were far away in Indiana.

Not that she hadn't done star travel before. She did like her vacations and she had been married to a Starfleet officer, after all. But there had always been something for her to do, what with the kids and all. Now though, she was at a loss.

She supposed she could have gone to the Holodeck, but fake cooking was still false. And replication was not the same. The quarters were as clean and tidy as the maintenance crew could make it. Ambassadors did not have to worry about picking up after themselves. Though her daughter-in-laws were naturally tidy anyway. It didn't change that her kind of usual contribution wasn't needed. She could, of course, do other things than cook and clean. She'd had an occupation before wife and mother. At one time she had been a renowned mathematician, but that was some time ago. She'd kept up with the reading, but hadn't really put her hand to the wheel since Katie was in diapers.

She supposed, if she had to identify what she felt, she would have to call it boredom. This was why she was walking around in the dead of night.

But she refused to name it, for one simple reason. It was always bad to get bored in space. Troublesome things happened then.

So she walked and tried to think of something useful to do with her time, now that she had so much more of it to look forward to.

==^==

Seven of Nine had been awake for forty two hours, thirty one minutes and sixteen seconds. She felt wide awake, fresh, ready for ... anything. She could go for another day or two and feel just fine. If she slept or ate she could extend the time. If she regenerated, she could start the whole cycle over.

At the moment her children and her mates, except for Tuvok and Kathryn, were either sleeping or regenerating according to their personal schedules. Tuvok, like herself, could go for long periods of time without sleep. It was a mixture of discipline and his physiology. Kathryn had nightmares, which led her to sometimes not being able to return to sleep.

Technically, though, most of the adults were sleeping less these days. And not just from all the hard work they were putting in. They had more stamina. Which was fortunate, since that stamina was being put to use in a variety of ways these days.

Recently they'd gone through a literally life changing adventure. Alterations had been made to those who traveled through the Maze of Mines , including the ship, Voyager. Seven of Nine was no exception.

She was aware that it was possible that she could go even longer without sleep. She simply did not care to test the theory out just yet. She had other things on her mind.

Not the least was how best to wake up one of her mates.

One of the side benefits, or possibly drawbacks, depending on the day, was the increase in libido. There were times where she could hardly control herself. And she was the master of self-control.

At the moment she was experiencing a low burn, but it could torch to something much more intense if one of her mates just looked at her in a certain way. Or if she decided to inspire it.

Seven of Nine entered the Nest.

The Nest was another one of those mysterious adaptations Voyager had undergone as a result of the maze. It had been designed specifically for the adult members of her family. She wondered, sometimes, why. But at other times, she absolutely knew the reason. They needed it. Whoever, or whatever had changed them, had known the consequences of the changes and had accommodated them. Which meant there had been a thought process behind the changes. Which led Seven of Nine, again, to consider the why of it.

Miral, B'Elanna's mother, thought it was an act of Kahless. Seven thought it was something done by the makers of the maze for their own purposes. The question of who or what made the maze and the why remained. But the answers were something that she had set aside pursuing. For the moment.

The Nest was a large room with solid walkways around a soft, plush center. Doorways to the adult's quarters and a few other specialized rooms, which they had yet to truly explore, were set around unique space. Seven had already made some adjustments in the design of the space, but they were minute changes.

Seven paused outside of B'Elanna's room. “Voyager,” the tall, shapely blonde said quietly, “Is B'Elanna Torres awake?”

“Seven, she is not awake. Do you wish me to awaken her?”

“I wish to awaken her, but she is in her room. I do not wish to invade her privacy.”

Voyager actually chuckled. “Well, I doubt she would mind if you invaded her space, Seven. But I understand. What do you wish to do?”

“Kidnap her.”

“You want to me to beam her into the Nest,” Voyager interpreted.

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I'll do it, but you take responsibility. This isn't exactly an emergency.”

“To you it is not.”

“Ah. Please hold.”

A few moments later, B'Elanna's sleeping nude form, along with the pillow her head rested upon, was beamed onto the soft part of the nest. She stirred, but did not quite wake.

It was a near thing, but the Nest was safe. It was always safe. B'Elanna knew that deep within. More, she knew that Seven was close by. And a part of her settled in and she went right back to sleep without worry.

Seven watched her Klingon slumber. She felt affection build with each soft snore. She also felt the heady warmth of desire thrill through her. Carefully, softly, like she was stalking prey, she made her way towards B'Elanna.

She was about to try an experiment, to test out their connection in a new way. Experimenting was something she personally enjoyed very much. Because of the changes she and her family had been through, Seven had been investigating the mind and body connection and come across some interesting studies about touch, senses and empathic awareness. She also drew upon the information database within her cortical node.

The Borg had difficulty assimilating telepathic and empathic species, but they did collect data whether integration was successful or not. She could not help how the data was acquired, but she could make sure it was used to good purpose. That had become one of her personal goals since finally accepting that Voyager was her current collective. The purpose amplified with the addition of her family and House. Although, she did admit to herself that this was perhaps a great stretch of the meaning.

Seven knelt down gently, slowly, so that the bedding barely moved. Then, when she felt comfortable, she hovered her hands just above B'Elanna's skin. Without touching the Klingon, she drew her fingertips in circular motions just above dusky nipples and focused intently on feeling and imagining what she wanted to occur.

B'Elanna's nipples rose as if Seven had pinched them. The half-Klingon gasped softly, sleepily. She arched upwards and Seven raised her hands with the movement and moved her fingers as if she were strumming the stiffening buds. B'Elanna responded with a hungry little rumble.

Seven nodded to herself, smiled slightly. She drew her hands in a hovering trail along B'Elanna's belly. There she paused, just above the skin and she caressed the point above her Klingon's belly button, then lower. She circled one hand above soft curls. Her fingertips might have brushed the edges, but she didn't fully touch the skin.

B'Elanna's legs parted slightly.

Seven licked her lips and decided that the results of her experiment were... good enough for the moment.

She lowered her cybernetic hand and delicately drew down the moistened crease of her Klingon. She kissed those ready nipples, softly licking around the aureole, then sucking at the tips lightly.

B'Elanna groaned, mumbled.

Seven didn't stop. She played in the growing wetness, enjoyed the way her mate responded to the physical sensation. B'Elanna was beginning to awaken, so she deepened the motion, deepened the pressure she was using.

The half-Klingon went into a lazy stretch and said her name.

Seven kissed her way up from nipple to collarbone, to neck to jaw to lips. B'Elanna was awake enough to respond with warmth and hunger. The kiss deepened and Seven still moved her hand in that wonderful intimate space.

B'Elanna lifted her hips, granting better access. Seven accepted the unspoken invitation and moved her hand where B'Elanna wanted it. She began to thrust and search for the inner pleasure point she knew was there. She also used her thumb to stimulate the dual sweet points until B'Elanna was writhing in pleasure.

Seven began whispering sultry words of eroticism. It was low enough that only B'Elanna would have heard her. She told the Klingon how much she loved her, wanted her, needed her. The she made the demand.

B'Elanna felt the rush of erotic bliss flood through her and she arched. Her toes and fingers curled into the soft bed, gripping it. She called Seven's name as the ex-drone drew out her pleasure until she could take no more. Seven, who sensed her stopping point, withdrew, but only enough to pull B'Elanna into an embrace.

The Klingon slowly came down from the heights. Seven of Nine caressed her gently. B'Elanna finally, genuinely opened her eyes. She smiled warmly. “Good morning, BangwI.”

Seven of Nine smiled back, her need met.

==^==

The Captain eventually arrived at the Docking Bay, where stepped in without hesitation. No one was leaving through the docking port or arriving. There were no alarms. The door wasn't locked.

She was greeted with happy burbles and chirps by some of her newest “crew.”

When the Zakeeri came to join them, they brought with them six living ships. They were special kinds of beings, capable of up to Warp 5. Three of the Zakeeri ships were roundish with oddments and ends and three were sleek and silver, like Voyager. The Three Sisters, as the sleeker ships were called, had accompanied Voyager through the maze of mines and had been transformed. One of the Three Sisters, Stinging Sparrow, was a “special” friend of Voyager's. Voyager, it turned out, had also been transformed by the experiences within the maze and had acquired sentience.

All of the Zakeeri ships were full members of a mated clan group. Six ships on Voyager meant six separate clan groups. Stinging Sparrow was part of the clan Sun Tiger. War Flower was part of the clan Glory Dragon. Striking Feather was part of the clan Red Raptor. Laughing Hornet was part of the clan Star Fist. Dancing Hawk was part of the clan Painted Dogs. Kicking Phoenix was part of the clan Leaping Stars. Stinging Sparrow, War Flower and Striking Feather were the Three Sisters. Laughing Hornet, Dancing Hawk and Kicking Phoenix had not yet earned a group nickname. But eventually the crew would come up with something.

Kathryn greeted the small ships, touching and naming each one as she passed by. She spent a few minutes talking to them like she would Voyager. They didn't answer her in the same ways, but they did respond with chirps and beeps and happy ship noises when she was around them. That was absurdly pleasing to her, given how recent their addition was to her crew. But she found that “mothering,” these small vessels seemed to work wonders for her morale and theirs. So she attempted to apply the same kind of parenting logic she tried with her children. It seemed to work.

Each of these small ships, which were larger than the Delta Flyer, but small enough to fit a berth in Voyager's docking bay, had their own captain. Though the captains were now called Commander while on Voyager, since there could only be one captain on Voyager. It saved confusion. After much deliberation she'd decided to make all six ships a squad, with Commander Sofuru as the team leader. That seemed to suit the Zakeeri just fine. They had joined Voyager for a variety of reasons, but mostly for the adventure.

Not that there had been much in the way of adventure in the last month or so.

Which was fine with Kathryn. They'd needed the time to train, learn to work together as a crew, get to know the ship again, and start developing some of those new decks that Voyager had mysteriously gained as an “award,” for making it through the Maze.

Not that she was complaining. Voyager had plenty of space, for once.

After spending time communing with the little ships, Kathryn started back to her quarters. She hoped to catch a small nap and breakfast with the family before duty this morning. If she managed that, she'd be ready for anything.

==^==

B'Elanna greeted Kathryn warmly when she spotted her. The Klingon was at the table, digging into some scrambled eggs. She had a PADD in her hand, but set it down. “Would you like me to...”

“I can get it.” Kathryn paused near the other woman long enough to kiss her. She had intended the kiss to be quick, but as soon as their lips touched, B'Elanna had pressed for more. The kiss deepened enough to give Kathryn tingles and then, with a wink, the Klingon released her.

With a bemused smile on her face, Kathryn went to the replicator. She was suddenly in the mood for scrambled eggs too.

A brief flash and a swirl of light later, Kathryn was able to take her tray to the table. She had come to appreciate having working replicators again. Though she'd made Seven recreate a certain blend of coffee for her, just so she could have it now and then as a reminder of how lucky she was.

She sat to B'Elanna's right, and began to tuck in. And, surprisingly, she had timed things perfectly. Normally she was very early or a little late. The kids started making their way to the dining area – where they got kissed and cuddled just for waking up. The other adults, it turned out, were already at work for various reasons. Sometimes duty called at odd hours on a starship.

So Kathryn and B'Elanna got the kids, from Icheb on down, nutritionally and emotionally edified. Then they sent them off to their various learning tasks. Neelix stopped by, just after breakfast and as the older kids were leaving, to pick up Emina. Now that he only had to look in on the Mess Hall to check if it were running, he had a little more time on his hands. He was, as he had been for Naomi, an eager “uncle.” He looked quite the sight toting the youngest in the sling, but he now shared Seven of Nine's point of view that body contact was an important thing for babies.

Suddenly B'Elanna and Kathryn were alone. The half-Klingon tilted her head and touched her fingertips to Janeway's cheek, just under one of her eyes. “You didn't get much sleep.”

Kathryn shrugged. “For the usual reasons. I'll be alright.”

“I know. How long do you have?”

Kathryn checked the time. “About an hour before I have to get on shift.”

B'Elanna took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Come with me.”

“I can sleep on my own for twenty minutes, B'Elanna.”

“Who said anything about sleep?”

Kathryn blinked, then smiled. “Oh.”


	2. Chapter 2

B'Elanna led Kathryn through her own room and straight into the Nest. She grinned at Kathryn's expression. “I promise not to rip off your uniform.” Then she leered. “But only if you take it off...”

The captain laughed. Then she began divesting the evidence of her authority and laying her clothing on an available table.

B'Elanna only took off her jacket and boots. Then, when she saw that her love was nude, she reached out her hand to grasp Kathryn's again. She was always impressed with the mixture of strength and delicacy that made up the compact Human. Sometimes just looking at Kathryn took her breath away.

She led her mate to that place of softness that was theirs and laid her against plump pillows. Then, she knelt, leaned in and covered the other woman's body with her own. Kathryn gripped her shoulders as she kissed her, tasting her with deliberate intensity. Kathryn's clasp tightened pleasantly, her nails beginning to dig enough to draw a moan of desire. “Kahless, I love you.”

It was always said with a sort of amazed surprise that she should be so lucky. Perhaps because she was still astonished and awed that they could do this, that they could be so free with one another when months ago, they had barely spoken to one another past professional topics. It seemed like a delicious miracle.

B'Elanna drew her lips and teeth down Kathryn's jaw. She inhaled deeply, drawing in her mate's scent. She said in the family tongue, “I love the way you smell. I love the way you taste. The way you walk. I could watch you for days.” She husked. She bit softly against the curve of Kathryn's neck, not piercing. This wasn't a time for hard bites, but a time for quick loving. “I'm going to take you, my mate. I'm going to make you fly. Do you want that?”

She pulled back to gaze into stormy blue eyes. Kathryn's growled, that now familiar noise of desire that always sent B'Elanna over the wall. “Yes!”

The Klingon growled back. Her hands slid strong and sure along her Human mate's chest and torso. She sought and found Kathryn's breasts, where she paused to knead and fondle while their kisses blazed through them. There was an abrupt tearing sound and B'Elanna sat back briefly. She looked at her shoulder, and then at the abashed expression Kathryn was giving her. Then she grinned wildly.

B'Elanna grasped the offending sleeve and yanked, until it was torn off. Then she grasped the other, and yanked that one off too. She nearly tossed the scraps away, then she paused and gave her captain a considering look. She cocked an eyebrow. Kathryn's laugh of perception was delicious.

In moments, Kathryn's wrists were bound, not too tightly, but enough to keep her from ripping any other piece of clothing. The captain, who had been a prisoner in a Cardassian camp, could free herself any time. The knots were that loose. B'Elanna kissed Kathryn's knuckles, then lifted the woman's hands above her head and back a little, until Kathryn could grasp a small bar above her head. There were several such items that were strategically placed around the soft-nest. Those bars were embedded into an indentation, rather than stuck out where one could hit one's head and very useful to those who needed them. Of course, they'd had to replace a few. But that was what you got when a woman with a cybernetic hand was one of your mates.

When she knew Kathryn had a good grip, she began again. This time B'Elanna started by stroking her tongue around and along beautiful full nipples. She loved those nipples. She sucked them in, nibbled them lightly, drawing out moans and graphic vocalizations of pleasure. B'Elanna adored that about Kathryn, that surprising vulgarity was such a contrast to her normal composure.

The Klingon's hands stroked Kathryn's torso, then her legs. Kathryn had opened up invitingly and B'Elanna's found a moist forest of auburn curls in which to play. B'Elanna praised that state in Klingon, knowing it would turn her Kathryn on even more, even as she began to press in, filling Kathryn. Some words the captain had taken time to learn. Their house was multilingual in many ways.

B'Elanna kissed a heated trail down Kathryn's body, nipping here and there along the way, seeking and finding a lovely wet point to rest her tongue. Then she began to have a second breakfast, one that she had been craving even more than food. She hummed and growled into the repast, pulling Kathryn into nature's demanding call and response.

She felt the shudder begin before Kathryn began crying out her pleasure. Rolling waves of joy shocked through their link. B'Elanna closed her eyes and basked in the start of the glow, slowing her touch and drawing the out that pleasure which was Kathryn's. Then, when she felt her mate begin to slide back home, she crawled back up. Gently she helped Kathryn release the bar, though the woman was still gripping strongly and breathing hard. Kathryn's opened her eyes long enough to smile in wonder at B'Elanna and received a tender, lingering kiss for it. B'Elanna undid the binding, one handed, while she gently stroked the length of her lover's body. “I love you,” whispered Kathryn.

The Klingon gathered Kathryn to her, whispered her love in return, and they wrapped their arms around one another and rested.

==^==

B'Elanna was feeling very chipper when she entered Engineering. She nodded and smiled to some of her crew before she stopped by the project wall and read off the current checklist. Some of her engineers were working with members of other departments in developing the Park. She touched a few target points on the wall console and noted times and dates. Things seemed to be progressing nicely. She checked the other projects and spotted one that looked like it might need her personal attention, so she tagged it with her name.

Then she went into her office to grab her tool belt. She smiled unconsciously as she passed the wall with her family photos. That wall had been somewhat of a catalyst in her life. B'Elanna strapped on her tool belt and then headed back out. She'd had a good morning. Now it was time to see if the mood would last while she made some repairs.

==^==

When Kathryn finally entered the Bridge she was in a good mood. The nap she originally planned had turned into something much more interesting and she was feeling rested, exercised, and sated – always a wonderful combination. She greeted everyone on the Bridge pleasantly, though she also greeted two with a spicy exchange of fingertalk. Then she finally sat down in her Captain's chair. “What have we got, today Chakotay?”

Her first officer smiled at seeing her happiness, frowned at that she was still carrying on the charade, and then smiled again when she sat down besides him. “Astrometrics reports that there is a Nebula about five light years from here that you might be interested in exploring. It appears to have a few unusual features – including a bit of stormy weather. Megan Delaney says the “fireworks,” should be safe to view at the fifty kilometer mark, if you want to get a close up.

Kathryn considered. “It might be good training for our squads. Get them out there and let them stretch their wings a bit. We'll follow along and meet them there at a designated point. Have Megan pick it and send the coordinates up here. Speaking of training...”

Chakotay picked up right away. “They're doing great. Much better than anticipated. There's still been a bit of hazing, but nothing as extravagant as that Painted Dog incident.”

“Good. Good. Keep 'em on track Chakotay.”

“Will Do.”

Sometimes it was best to grab the bull by its horns. Sometimes it was best to lead with flowers and sweet grass. “Ah, yes, speaking of on track. Chakotay, do you have a minute to meet me in my Ready Room. I have something... important... to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Kathryn.”

==^==

They sat down on a couch, not too distantly apart. “Chakotay, there has been something I've been meaning to address with you for awhile now. We've been friends a long time.”

His smile crinkled at the side of his eyes. “Seven years, at least.”

Kathryn smiled back warmly. “At least.” She clasped her hands together. “Do you trust me?”

“I... Of course, Kathryn.”

“Good. Because I trust you.” She looked briefly out the port window. “Not that we haven't had our moments, but on the whole we have learned to rely on one another. I would hate to lose that friendship. Wouldn't you?”

“Of course.”

“Chakotay, you're aware that I'm mated? Most of the ship is, by now.” Actually, it could be argued that the whole ship had been part of the experience. But she didn't want to confuse her friend. “But I think... and I hesitate to address this, since it is emotional territory, but I do not believe that this fact has completely registered with you.”

“Kathryn, we've left Zakeeri space. Surely you don't have to carry on the charade any longer.”

“It's not a charade, Chakotay.”

He just blinked at her.

She tried a different approach. “While all my mates have passion, I have two that are more inclined than others to just space you and have done with it. If you can't believe that I am, in fact, part of a House, you must at least consider the thought that my mates consider it to be true. They are taking certain actions on your part towards me quite personally. I must ask you, for your sake, to cease and desist.”

He blinked more, but there was now a different expression on his face. “I... hadn't thought of it that way.”

She quirked a smile at him. “I am aware. That is why I'm pointing it out to you, as your friend, and as your concerned captain.”

Chakotay had no reply to that.

“I would also like, since I'm doing this anyway, to address notions of stupidity.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I have always thought of you as an intelligent man. In fact, you have a great wisdom that I have admired. But I think, sometimes you become limited in your vision and that affects your choices. All this time you have encouraged me to create relationships with those who were available. Yet when such a relationship made itself available to you, you chose a different path.” She raised her hand to forestall an argument. “You have that right. But you should be aware that I, personally, think you lost out on something potentially wonderful.”

“It just... wasn't my style.”

“Do you think my current family situation was mine?”

“I.. No, captain. It was the last place I saw you going.”

Ah. Now he was acknowledging it. Good. That was the goal right there. She smiled softly, thoughtfully. “I never even saw it coming, Chakotay. But I'm glad I took the chance. And I wouldn't trade it now, for anything.” Then she looked him in the eye. “Or anyone.”

Chakotay couldn't find an appropriate response to that. Kathryn continued.

“I hope you find your joy, Chakotay, but you need to let what could have been go. I value you too much to play that kind of charade with you. It would devalue what we truly honor about one another.”

He looked a bit pole-axed. She couldn't help him past that. “Chakotay, my good friend and first officer, you are dismissed.”

He didn't quite stumble out, but she knew he would be on autopilot for a bit. She didn't leave the Ready Room for awhile herself.

==^==

The Federation Starship Bradbury slowed to impulse just inside of the Beta Quadrant. They were responding to a hail from a Starfleet shuttle that had recently been received. The captain called Ambassadors Troi and T'Pel to the Docking Bay.

Lwaxana was had been trying on new types of outfits, spurred on by the young Phoebe, since they shared colorful tastes. And these days the younger fashions actually fit to her body. The Betazoid found it all quite amusing. At the time of the captain's request, she and Phoebe had been trying on some scandalous swim suits. The captain's stunned reaction had been ... flattering and memorable.

Not that he was the one she was interested in pleasing these days. No, Lwaxana found it highly enjoyable to light up T'Pel's eyes in that... certain way. And she tried her very best to do it often.

Lwaxana had changed into something a little less revealing, but equally vibrant by the time the more moderately robed T'Pel was ready to leave their quarters. Phoebe excused herself to go work on a piece then. Miral, Asil and Malvok were off somewhere practicing a Klingon martial art. Gretchen had gone to watch. Lwaxana was aware that her human mother-in-law was still finding these radical changes quite challenging.

Lwaxana could understand it. In the dead of night, she sometimes foundered herself. But she was lucky to have the lovely and ever logical T'Pel to rely upon for comfort. The Betazoid reached out with her fingertips, and found them touched and herself well loved, once again.

Together she and her mate made their way to Bradbury's Docking Bay.

==^==

It wasn't often that Deanna shocked her mother.

But she was gratified to see that it was possible, even if it were due to somewhat unhappy circumstances.

She led her younger brother down the steps of the Shuttle. Once he hit the deck, he burst into a run and made his way straight towards their mother. He flung his arms wide and was received in a complete and loving hug and kiss by his mother.

Lwaxana took her son's hand, then stood up and, as Deanna drew closer, looked into her daughter's dark eyes. She didn't press her mentally. She knew Deanna hated that and today, apparently, was not the day to tease.

Her daughter greeted T'Pel graciously and then finally spoke. “I'm sorry we didn't call first, but our departure was abrupt. Will needs space.”

“We are honored that you chose to come to us,” said T'Pel gently. “You are always welcome in our abode.”

There was a dangerous quiver on Deanna's lower lip.

“Come, my daughter,” Lwaxana distracted. “Let these Starfleet types bring your belongings and let's take you to our quarters.” She started walking, heading towards the exit. Deanna looked a little startled by the change in mood, but T'Pel merely raised an eyebrow and began following her most exuberant mate. Lwaxana began a rapid fire one person conversation, “Of course, we're going to have to have Captain Stevenson expand our quarters again. It will be no problem. His engineering crew is very efficient. We'll also have to talk to Miral. We were on our way to Ab'Liav Tertius. It's an old case that she's put on hold because one of the challengers refused to show. But now that she has access to a ship, she says family honor requires that we at least try to find this Baron Tulek of House Qua'lon. Apparently he originally agreed to abide by her ruling. She even has paperwork, if you can believe it. Klingons so rarely do that sort of thing, but Miral, she is a very unique Klingon. So we're going.

“Fortunately, it is a minor system fairly far away from the Dominion and hasn't really been touched by the war, according to some sources that Asil dug up from somewhere. After that is all resolved, well, the Federation wants us to head back towards the Klingon capital for some reason, but I am half tempted to just hire a new ship and send them on without us. Surely by now they have worked out their differences and apparently they've been fibbing to us about how dangerous it is out here. Why we haven't encountered one Dominion ship or even a Federation Scout ...”

==^==

The semi-coherent diamond shaped nebula was green with lightening on the inside and red with flame on the outside. They actually stopped to observe the phenomenon several thousand kilometers away to give Astrometrics a chance to assess the nebula a little more. As promised, there were some beautiful fireworks. There were also strong Omicron emissions, which in itself had made the short journey worthwhile. “I feel a bit of a fishing trip coming on,” quipped the Captain. “Let's have a quick staff meeting and see if we can arrive at a plan. I'll be in the conference room. Call the Zakeeri ships back. Chakotay, you have the Bridge until the meeting. Let's say, fifteen minutes?””

“Aye, Captain,” answered Chakotay gamely. He still wasn't quite acting like himself, but she knew he would recover. He would just need a little time. It wasn't like they hadn't had their shake ups before.

Fifteen minutes later the senior staff gathered together and began animatedly talking strategy. It was Harry who came up with the winning idea of trying out the Penetrator and seeing if it would work. The shield matrix had been used as a sort of absorption shovel in maze of mines. It had worked very well when they first used it, but other than an accidental deployment later, they hadn't tried the Penetrator since.

Janeway was open to the idea. The ship shield strength should actually be quite solid enough even if the Penetrator didn't work. So they worked on a secondary plan for scooping a good supply of the energy source, just in case. Janeway trusted Seven of Nine and B'Elanna to see to it.

Later, when the staff left, she took a moment to check with Voyager herself. “So, what do you think my sweet ship?”

“I look forward to it. I think this Nebula is interesting. As a proto-star it is quite normal, but it is also very visually striking.”

Kathryn Janeway smiled warmly. “That it is. We will soon be getting a close up, so prepare yourself.”

“Of course, Kathryn.”

==^==

“Deploy Penetrator Shield,” the captain ordered.

With a push of the button, the blue shield burst out and about Voyager.

“Half Impulse. Dead Ahead.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The ship moved forward into the Nebula. Plasma flashed and splashed against the shield like water balloons bursting. The shield turned even bluer and there was a hum, not unpleasant. “What are the readings?”

“Absorption rate 20%... 30%... 40%... 50%... rising steadily, captain. Automated Storage containers are receiving in Cargo Bay 1. Absorption rate 100%. Containers at 10%”

“Stop Impulse. Halt ship. We'll stay here for a moment and see if we can fill her up.” There was a pause. “Shields?”

“Holding steady, captain.”

The captain nodded to herself. “This is good. This is very good.”

Hopeful smiles began sliding across more than one face on the bridge. The ship rocked as plasma struck it, but it rocked like a ship on a calm sea rather than a starship caught in a storm.

“Storage containers at 50%.”

There was an unexpected sound then. An alert blurted on one of the consoles demandingly. “Captain, we're getting a strange reading here.”

“A problem with the shields?”

“No, captain. In the core of the Nebula. There's...”

A rush of light flashed, turning the Penetrator shield color white. The ship quaked and rumbled, tossing her passengers against their seats. “Reverse, full impulse.”

Voyager pulled back quickly and in good time. Another shockwave pulsed out from the center of the nebula.

“Astrometrics.”

“Here, Captain.”

“What is going on with the proto-star? Did the Penetrator shield cause this?”

“The shield is not the cause, but these are not standard readings for a proto-star. There is an unusual rise in ... tachyon ... emissions. Captain, I suggest we retreat.”

Kathryn grunted, “No kidding.” Then she ordered, “Pull us back, Tom, 1000 kilometers.”

“Aye Captain.”

“Harry, keep the Penetrator on until we're out of range.”

“Astrometrics to Bridge.”

“Bridge here. What else have you got?”

“There is a rift forming in the center of the proto-star.”

“Oh that is just dandy.” She closed their contact and grimaced at Chakotay, “You know, one of these days, we're going to find a nebula that is just a nebula in the Delta quadrant.”

Her first officer quirked a grin at her. He couldn't help it. “Well, Kathryn, I wouldn't bet on it.”

She just shook her head ruefully at him. “Neither would I.”

“At least we got some supplies out of it this time.”

“True. True. We're still ahead of the game.”

“Astrometrics to Bridge.”

“Go ahead.”

“There is an object in the rift.”

“Will it come up on the monitor yet?”

“Doubtful. We're tracking though. We'll notify Lieutenant Kim's console when the image will be available.”

“As soon as possible please.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Well, now, this gets more interesting. What do you think is coming through that rift?”

“Won't know until we find out.”

“Chakotay, your helpful commentary is why I hired you.”

“Knew there had to be a reason I agreed to ride on this boat.”

“Oh... Voyager is going to get you for that one. I wouldn't want to be you tonight.”

He finally cracked and laughed. And then so did she. That's when she knew it was going to be alright between them.

“We've got zoom on the view screen, captain,” announced Harry.

“Show us what we've got.”

It was still a fairly fuzzy image, but they could identify two small silver objects against a dark background within the rift.

“Is it me, or do those shapes seem... familiar?”

“At this point they seem like two dots to me.”

“Astrometrics to Bridge.”

“Here, Astrometrics.”

“We've got a positive ID on the objects in the rift. Also, they are moving towards us, rather than away.”

“I feel jaded.”

“Why is that, Captain?”

“Because my first thought was, 'Of course they are.' Forward the I.D. to Harry's station please.”

“Will do. Astrometrics out.”

“Holy Cats,” Harry blurted.

“That was a new one. What have we got Harry.”

“Well...” He hesitated, “... There's a Federation Scout Ship... and... a Klingon Raptor.”

“A Raptor? Those haven't been used for over a century.”

“How current is the Federation Scout Ship?”

“Very, Captain. But, I think there must be something wrong, because they should be able to outgun a Raptor.”

“I take it the Raptor is chasing the scout.”

“Yes.”

“Prep phasers...”

“Captain, there's a third ship, unknown class. It's big though. Chasing both the Raptor and the Scout.”

“I'm beginning to get a better picture here.” She grimaced and made a decision. “Tom, prepare to go in. Harry, get the Penetrator working again.”

“Aye, Captain,”

“Astrometrics, we're going to need a navigational plot through the nebula. We've got two ships in crisis being chased by an unknown third vessel.”

“Working on it.”

“Tom, as soon as you have a course, take us in.”

“Tuvok. Prep Phasers and photon torpedoes.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Lieutenant Ro, we don't know what condition those other ships are in. Prep tractor beam, just in case.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Tom, get us in there.”

==^==

Voyager drove in through the nebula like a shark through a fiery sea. The Penetrator shield did its job, absorption and protection, slicing the path open for them before their regular shields could even be touched. Voyager used the extra energy to build a bit of speed and fortify her phaser banks. It actually felt kind of good. Ticklish.

The Six Zakeeri ships joined in a link with her through Stinging Sparrow. Their input was invaluable as she made those small adjustments that kept a ship whole. They also helped manage the absorption flow.

The closer Voyager and her crew got, the more apparent it was that the two ships had not actually been in conflict, despite first appearances. In fact, they were lucky to be in any sort of shape for running. The scorch marks, the dents and breaks made that evident. They also could now make out the markings on the bigger ship – a square shaped skull and crossbones.

“Orion Syndicate,” gasped out the Captain.

“I wonder if they're the one's who opened the rift?”

“We don't have time to find out.” She directed her attention to Lieutenant Paris. “Listen up Tom, whatever you do, don't go into the rift. We don't know what time it is over on that side. You're going to have to keep us on this side.”

“Understood captain.”

“On the other hand, let's see if we can sting those people enough for them to lose interest in those other ships.” She grimaced. “Tuvok, fire phasers at the Orion ship.”

“Aye, Captain.”

There was a burst of fire, short and sweet and potent. It struck the enemy vessel, but didn't appear to do much to it.

“Try again, up the power.”

There was another burst and this time the strike seemed more effective. They actually saw the Orion shields flicker.

“Captain, the other two ships, they're not looking too good there.” Ro stated. “Sensors indicate a warp breach is imminent on the Raptor. The Scout isn't in much better condition.”

“Lieutenant Ro, gather up some security guards and get to the Transporter room. Beam who you can aboard. We're going to have guests. Possibly Klingon and unfriendly.”

“Aye, Captain. We'll have to drop shields during transport.”

“Arrange a shield rotation with Tuvok. Voyager can handle a short amount of exposure. Strip weapons during transport. As for the people, medical help first. Get their cooperation if you can. Klingons might not appreciate the welcome, but they weren't exactly winning the battle anyway. Brig 'em if they try and slug someone.”

“Aye, Captain.” There was a whoosh at the door as Lieutenant Ro exited the Bridge.

“Okay, can we tractor in the scout, Harry?”

“I think so, Captain.”

“Do it. They'll have to forgive us later, if they live.”

“Right.”

“Tuvok, keep firing. Add photon torpedoes when you're ready.”

The result of that command was immediate, two torpedoes fired, then another two.

Kathryn turned and looked at her Security officer. He gave her the raised eyebrow, implying that nothing unusual was happening. But she thought she saw something darken in his eyes.

Oh, there was a story there.

The first round hit the Orion ship and obviously shook it. She saw that they were firing back, but it appeared to be random. “They don't see us.”

“So it appears.”

“Interesting.”

The second round hit the Orions hard; there was a burst of flame that arced out into space before it snuffed out.

The tractor locked onto the scout ship, just as the Klingon ship seemed to catch that flame and explode in response.

The wave front of the explosion appeared to push the scout ship forward to them and Kathryn decided to take advantage of it.

“Back us out Tom.”

“Scout ship may not be able to take the impact of the Nebula.”

She tapped her comm badge, “Lieutenant Ro, prepare for more guests. We don't think the scout ship is going to make it.”

“Aye, Captain. Transporting now.”

A few tense moments later, the scout ship began to obviously quake. Lieutenant Ro contacted the Bridge. “All aboard, captain.”

“Tom, cut her loose. Get us out of here.” The tractor beam disengaged just in time as the scout ship shattered brightly into a zillion pieces.

Voyager turned and began heading out of the Nebula.

“Captain, we're being followed.”

“Are they shooting at us?”

“Yes, captain. But they're still firing blind.”

“Are they through the rift?”

“Almost, Captain.”

“Well, I don't know what's kept them from seeing us when we can see them, but I'm guessing they won't be blind for long if they make it through. Tuvok, fire at will.”

There was a burst of fire, photon and phasers that ripped through the nebula towards the rift. The Orion ship was just crossing the rift and managed to hit Voyager with a disrupter beam. Captain Janeway's ship fired again. This time the explosions weren't minor and the Syndicate ship didn't survive the experience.

Voyager, however, was tossed forward, with her nose tipped down and her Nacelles hanging up, as if she were a human in a handstand. The shields held, but the whole ship was jounced hard and rough right on out of the Nebula.

Moments later, Kathryn was climbing back up into her chair. Harry, who'd managed to get to his console, reported, “The rift is completely closed, Captain.” He looked up at her. “It's like it was never even there.”

“Thank you, Harry,” She praised. Then she commented to Chakotay. “Yes, one of these days, we're going to encounter an ordinary, regular, simple nebula in the Delta Quadrant.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Status,” Kathryn inquired of Lieutenant Ro. They were standing just outside the conference room. Their guests were now gathered in the room, along with six security guards.

“We got them all. Had to send four to sick bay. Three Klingons, one Human. The Klingons... are a bit of a surprise Captain.”

“How do you mean?”

Laren raised her hand and touched her forehead. “No... ridges.”

“Interesting.”

“Also, surprisingly polite and, dare I say it, dashing. They flirt like hell. We've had more trouble out of the Starfleet Crew.”

“Really?”

“We're too young to really be Starfleet.”

“Ah. I suppose I should have thought of that. But you know, I forget.”

Laren chuckled, “We all do. We're used to it. Mostly.”

“Mostly. How's the body language?”

“They're grouping together, waiting to see what happens next. I've got the Star Fists watching them, along with Ensigns Chase, Booker and Simmons.”

Captain Janeway's lips twitched. The Ensigns were notorious for being very tall and very big, in a muscular no-nonsense kind of way. “No wonder they're being polite.”

Lieutenant Ro nodded sagely. There had been a reason for her choices.

The Star Fists were fierce-looking Zakeeri. Zakeeri were approximately 1.08 meters high on average. Not very tall at all. They were hominids of feline descent and – as a race – had been, according to their legends, altered by the makers of the Maze of Mines several times.

What they lacked in height, they made up for in other ways. All one had to do was look at them and know they were not to be trifled with. Xepal, the commander, was female, taller than her mates, and had dark hair and unusual grey eyes. When she snarled, her nose wrinkled down like a tiger's. When she grimaced that way, she showed sharp, dangerous teeth. She was formidable of personality. Dekut, her first mate, was male and muscular. He was her opposite in coloration, dark skinned, blonde and brown eyed. Kuva was her second mate. She was the most naturally colorful and exuberant of the Star Fists. Her hair was shocking pink and her green eyes often sparkled with amusement.

At the moment that Captain Janeway, followed by Lieutenant Ro, entered, those eyes were sparkling with grim intensity at the Starfleet crew. Xepal was stepping away from a woman, an ensign,. The woman looked to be in her mid twenties, tall, brunette and supple – which meant that Xepal had to leap to make that contact. The ensign was cupping the side of her cheek and looking at the Zakeeri in shock.

Xepal, of course, wore the rank of Commander in an obvious place on her collar – if the Starfleet crew had bothered to pay attention. She also wore one of Voyager's uniforms, with a broad red patch on one shoulder. She was saying, as she stepped back, “You will speak with respect.” Apparently there had been some sort of dispute.

Well, at least the ensign wasn't dead or bleeding, thought the Captain philosophically. She also knew that the Zakeeri wouldn't have made the strike without a reason. The ensign must have really pushed.

Ensign Chase announced, “Captain on Deck!”

It was a very formal announcement, but not unusual for Ensign Chase. He was a big, but polite young man. He liked to watch over his captain.

A proclamation like that always brought an automatic response to those who had military background. Suddenly all the drama dropped as people abruptly straightened their postures and assumed attentive positions.

The captain strode to the head of the table, but did not sit down. There weren't enough chairs. So she stood before her normal seat and gave all of them a stern glancing over. It was austere enough that many of the officers flinched.

Finally, when she knew she had their absolute attention, she began. “Welcome to the Federation Starship Voyager.”

“Voyager! But that's in the Delta quad...” blurted out one of the ensigns from the scout ship. He looked ... disbelieving and appalled. She narrowed her gaze at him and the rest of what he was about to say died on his tongue.

“I am,” she continued on, still staring at the young man who interrupted her. Then she brought the look around to all of them. “Captain Kathryn Janeway of the House Presba.”

The Klingons suddenly had odd expressions on their faces. The Federation crew looked a bit pained.

“And you are, indeed, now in the Delta Quadrant. Your ships are lost and your choices few. You are not prisoners,” Again with the disciplined, cautioning glare, “...yet. I expect you to comport yourselves as officers aboard this vessel. Quarters will be assigned, as your senior officers and I discuss what will happen next. We'll do a more formal debriefing tomorrow, after you all have had a chance to adjust. You will then make reports for the ship's logs. Captains and first officers are to remain. Commander Xepal,” And she emphasized the word commander for the sake of the female ensign, who blushed and winced as she realized a new thing. Might as well nip that attitude right in the bud. “... and the security team, please escort the rest of these individuals. Ensign Doyle will begin assigning quarters. It may be a few hours before the quarters are available. Fortunately,” There was a whimsical twist to her lips, “... we have plenty of space. Commander Xepal, give them the grand tour. Lieutenant Ro, you're with me.”

Moments later, the room was cleared except for six individuals. The captain nodded at the others. “Let's be seated.”

==^==

She had the Starfleet officers introduce themselves first.

Thus, it started out with Sarah Tucker, a sandy-blonde, blue eyed, thirty something human woman of average height. She had been Captain of the Scout ship Steele. She was not, currently, a happy person. But then neither would Kathryn have been. On the other hand, she was a luckier captain than she knew. At least she was alive. Kathryn wondered if they were going to bump heads, but she hoped not.

Tucker's first officer was Commander Steve Magnum. He was also human, in his mid forties. He was tall, olive skinned, blue eyed and dark haired, with a handsome profile. There was something mischievous in his eyes and she wondered if she should let him near Tom and Harry. It was just that kind of look. Kathryn set that thought aside for later.

Then it was the Klingon's turn. The captain introduced himself as Veckma and his first officer as Mek. He didn't offer any House names, so it was possible that they didn't have one. Then again, there might be other reasons for their silence. If she remembered correctly, the Klingons at that time weren't exactly vociferous about their heritage and ways of life.

As Lieutenant Ro had mentioned, these Klingons did not have the famous ridges. Their skin had a definite copper tone, their eyes were dark and eyebrows flared up, like wings. The men both wore neatly trimmed beards and haircuts. Veckma's beard was double pointed and brown, while Mek's was dark and somewhat curly. They sat with great confidence, comfortable with their own presence. She could observe the usual Klingon fire in them, but it was apparent that they held it in check, waiting. They wore a uniform that hadn't been seen in centuries.

She wondered, briefly, why they hadn't been more... feisty. But she knew that Klingons, based on her own lovely mate, had their own mind about things. It would become apparent eventually.

The Captain laid it out for them starting with how long Voyager had been in the Delta Quadrant and ending it, somewhat, with how long it might take for them to get back. Then she gave them their choices. They could travel on with them or be put out at the nearest port. She had seen feisty during her report, but it turned out that it wasn't the Klingons who had a lot to say.

For the umpteenth time Kathryn Janeway was interrupted.

“You'd abandon us...” Captain Tucker was about to roll onto another steam ridden reply.

Janeway answered tartly. “I have been lenient so far, but you are pushing it, Tucker. We do have a brig on Voyager,”

The other woman's mouth snapped shut.

Janeway continued reasonably, “I prefer to think I'd be offering you a good option, if you didn't care to stay on my ship. Certainly at a port there are plenty of ships available for purchase. We would be willing to assist you in that matter, get you a used one for a reasonable exchange. You'd be free and clear then to do what you wanted. On the other hand, if you think I'm just being terribly unfair, I could put you in some escape pods and send you back into the Nebula, if you'd prefer.”

“Uh.... no sir.. I mean.. ma'am... I mean Captain.”

The Klingon captain was watching all of this with some mirth and a great deal of interest.

The Captain continued. “It's not a decision that needs to be made immediately. But you, Commander Tucker, in particular, might want to consider that in one week's time Starfleet will be contacting us.”

“You have contact with Starfleet?”

“We do.”

Sarah found that she didn't have much to say to that.

“Captain Veckma, if you and your crew stay aboard you would need to be willing to abide by Voyager's rules. I recognize that this all must come as a greater shock to you than to my Starfleet compatriots here,” she indicated the distressed Starfleet officers with a tilt of her head. “But the Delta quadrant is still far from the Klingon empire. If you accompanied us, we would see to it as many as possible got home.”

“That is a brave promise Captain Janeway of the House Presba.”

She inclined her head. “It's one I've made before.”

“Have you kept your promise?”

She really wanted to tell him, 'twice,' but held her peace. “It's in process.”

“Of course.”

Lieutenant Ro's gaze slivered sharply at the Klingon. She opened her mouth to say something, but caught Kathryn's hand talk first. She grimaced and settled down.

“There is thirty light years to go, Captain Veckma,” Kathryn continued. “...but we will make it home one way or the other.”

“Covered in glory?” He asked it sarcastically.

She answered very seriously, “Ask the Zakeeri.”

“The who?”

“Do you recall Commander Xepal?”

“Ah. Yes. I see.”

“The Zakeeri recently joined us on the way to the Alpha quadrant. One of their specified reasons was that we are on a grand adventure. There will be plenty of glory for everyone. And plenty of death. The Delta Quadrant is not exactly peaceful.”

Suddenly the Klingons' visage lightened and that amused cast returned to his features. “This is good to hear. May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“You say you are of the House Presba. That has a very Klingon ring to it. Your Starfleet,” He nodded at the Captain Tucker and Commander Magnum and borrowed the captain's word, “...compatriots, tell us that the Klingon Empire and Federation are...” He paused as if struggling hard with the concept. “...allies. It is why we joined with them in our escape.”

“That was very practical and wise of you, Captain Veckma. And yes, it would be true. The Federation and Klingon Empire have had a compact since 2293.” She paused, giving him a chance to digest that date and its implication. “Also the House Presba is a Klingon house.”

Commander Mek sat back, stunned. Captain Tucker's and Commander Magnum's expressions glazed over. Captain Veckma gave her a long, probing look before finally saying, “We will consider it.”

“That's all I can ask. You would be welcome. We are not a Klingon ship, but we value the principles of Honor and the Way of the Warrior on this vessel.” Her lips quirked, “I would appreciate if you would hold off on trying to take over the ship. I'm not sure Voyager would appreciate your efforts.”

The Klingon blinked at her, wondering if she had read his mind.

She lifted a hand, “I was joking.” Then her gaze narrowed, “But I mean it. Don't challenge me. You won't like the results.”

He sat back. “Ah. I see.” Perceptive woman. He smiled at her toothily. He was liking her more and more.

She turned her attention back to the flabbergasted Starfleet officers. “As for you, the same options apply. If you choose to stay, you'll obey Voyager's rules. We're a bit more... ” Kathryn found herself thinking back to something Seven of Nine had mentioned to her. “... wild west around here. I know you were on military footing, due to the Dominion War, but this is different.” She sat back in her chair, “Also, for the sake of clarity, you captains will be addressed as Commander from here on out. There is only one captain aboard this vessel.” There was a clear snap of command in her voice. But it gentled. “For now, you are considered guests. This will give you a chance to evaluate my ship and crew and see if we're up to your... standards.” She gave them a wickedly stinging look. The Starfleet personnel flinched. The Klingons didn't. “I'll give you until after we contact Starfleet to decide. If you opt to stay we'll decide what departments will benefit the most from your expertise. If not, by then we should be near the Ubiyak system. Neelix tells me they have a very nice Space Station there. Now with that addressed, your quarters should be ready. Lieutenant Ro?”

“Aye, Captain. If you all will follow me please.”

==^== 

“Your captain is very formidable.” Commander Veckma commented as they walked through the corridor. They were going to stop at the medical center first so they could see their injured.

“She can be.” He was learning that the beautiful Lieutenant Ro could be a woman of few words.

“You are also of the House Presba?”

“I am.” She turned it right back around at him. “Have you got a problem with it?”

“No. No. I've just... never met a woman with your type of ridges before.”

Ah, there was that flirting again. “There are a few of us Bajorans on board. You'll meet more of us.”

“Bajoran.” The word was tasted, savored. Then a question was posed, suavely and bluntly. “Do you like Klingons?”

The stern woman's lips quirked briefly and she flashed a look at the questioner. “You could say that. One of my mates is Klingon.”

There was a pause. “One of...” He wasn't the only one surprised.

“The House Presba has unusual origins on this ship. If you're curious, you can speak to our Epatai about it. She...” Again there was that quirk that almost made a smile, “... explains it well.”

“I... see,” The Klingon drew a strange reassurance from this odd mix of dangerous undercurrent and weird almost familiarity. “Then the crest I see on your shoulder, it is Klingon.” He was just checking. He remembered the Captain's claim.

“Very.”

“On a Starfleet ship.”

“Yes.” As if that were nothing unusual.

“The Captain, is she Epatai?” That would make sense from a certain point of custom.

“No. Our Chief Engineer is.”

The Bajoran kept walking as the Klingon and the Starfleet officers stalled as they absorbed that information. Then the Klingon growled a bit and smiled at his First Officer. These Starfleet were definitely different than the ones they knew back home.

==^==

They were greeted by a grim looking blonde man. In the distance they could see an equally bleak balding man who was wielding a medical tricorder over one of the casualties. Waldos and other apparatus were moving with purpose about him, aiding him in surgery on three different persons. The fourth was unconscious, but apparently not dead. The white sheet rose softly with that being's breath.

Lieutenant Paris held his gloved hands up. The apron he wore was stained in red and lavender. “I'm sorry. We really don't have time to talk right now. So far, all patients are alive. That's the most I can say.” He nodded towards the sleeper. “She's going to be okay and we figure she'll be conscious in about eight hours, if you want to come back when she's awake.” He looked at the Klingons and stated baldly, “She's one of yours. You can look at her if you want, but don't try to wake her. She shouldn't be moved for awhile.”

“Thank you...”

“Tom. Lieutenant Tom Paris. If you'll excuse me.”

“Of course.” Then Veckma looked to Ro, who nodded. The Klingons made their way to see their crew person.

“He's not medical,” Sarah Tucker said, indicating Lieutenant Paris. She'd caught sight of the flash of red on his shoulder. Now that she knew what to look for...

“He's our Navigator. We lost our medical personnel when we arrived in the Delta quadrant. Except for the Doctor over there.”

“I see.” Then she blinked. “Wait a minute, isn't he...”

“He is our Doctor and has seen more in seven years than most.”

“Uh...”

Lieutenant Ro turned and finally really focused on the Starfleet people. “Look. There is a lot to get used to around here. But it's a good crew. The captain is ...” The Bajoran paused, realizing she was getting her ire up for the wrong reasons. She revised her impulse. “ What I suggest you do is check the public logs. That will tell you more than I can possibly convey. As the captain mentioned in the meeting, we didn't start out with a lot.”

“We have a doctor. And a medic.”

“And a counselor,” added Commander Magnum with an interesting expression on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“They weren't actually part of our crew. We were taking them to the front before the Orion Syndicate snagged us in a temporal trap.” Commander Tucker grimaced. Then she sighed. “It's not been a great set of days.”

Lieutenant Ro was suddenly grateful she'd backed off. She touched the Commander's shoulder. “I understand. Do you think the Doctor would be interested in coming up here and helping?”

“She's already here.” The Commander nodded at one of the tables where the Waldos and the Doctor were furiously engaged in surgery.

“Oh, that sucks.”

“It does.”

“Let's get Ensign Hughes up here, though. He can definitely help. It'll make him feel useful.” Commander Tucker paused. “... with the captain's approval, that is.”

The Lieutenant gave the Commander a long look. “She'll approve.”

==^==

After visiting with Commander Chakotay, Xepal took the Starfleet and Klingon crew on a whirlwind tour of Voyager. She marched them quickly enough through the corridors, stopping briefly to show them points of interest, such as the Mess Hall or Hydroponics. By briefly, one meant that they halted long enough for her to mention what they were. She figured, if it was important to them, they'd remember how to get there. Or ask someone.

They eventually made their way to engineering, where Xepal halted so abruptly that the group was forced to form around her. She asked Lieutenant Carey, “Is Lieutenant Torres available?”

Carey, who had two pieces of equipment in his hands and a metal tool in his teeth jerked his head in a diagonal upwards movement. This caused Xepal to look up. “Ah. I see her. Thank you. Kuva, please let the Chief know we are here.”

There followed a bit of acrobatics as Kuva chose to forgo the usual means of getting up to the second level. The security guards exchanged amused glances with each other, but otherwise acted unperturbed. While the guests had a moment of awe. Kuva wasn't exactly noiseless, though she could have been. Instead, while rapidly ascending she called, “Lieutenant Torres, may I have a moment of your time.”

There was a thunk and a loud curse, then an object went flying over their heads to seriously dent the plating on the next wall. “Damn it Kuva!”

There was a light laugh from the Zakeeri, but then a moment of talk. “Captain sends her regards and guests on tour. Xepal has brought them to meet you.” She leaned in closer and whispered. “There are some Klingons. But they don't look like you.”

Now B'Elanna's curiosity was tweaked. “I'll be right down.”

Kuva then leapt down the great distance to land at the spot where she'd left the guests. “She'll be right down,” she said, as if nothing unusual had happened.

Ensign Booker said, “You know, you could have used the comm badge.”

“And where would the fun have been?”

“Ah. I see. You just enjoy endangering your life.”

Kuva waved airily. “Path of the Warrior and all that.”

The security team grinned at the Zakeeri. The Klingon weren't sure if they should grin or not, but wanted to. The Starfleet crew from the Steele were too busy trying to catch their breaths to worry about such unimportant matters as jaunty dialog.

Kuva turned around as the sound of footsteps on the stairwell announced a change. “Ah, speaking of warriors...”

B'Elanna Torres descended down the engineering stairs in no hurry. She was dressed in a work shirt with the sleeves torn off. Her jacket was tied off at her waist. She was wiping her hands, but there were smudges on her face, arms, and clothes. It only made her that much more attractive.

“Klingon,” whispered one of the guests. “She's...Klingon.” There was just a hint of passion in that whisper.

There was a growl and then a leap. Suddenly the Chief Engineer was right there. Her teeth were bright and sharp, so was her gaze. She had moved so fast they hadn't tracked how she'd arrived. “Yes. I am. Want to make something of it?”

The startled group were silent. Xepal decided now was a good time to introduce the half-Klingon. “This is Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer to Voyager. She is also Epatai of the House Presba.”

There was combined sound that suddenly emanated from the group of Klingons. It was not disbelief, but wonder. They broke into excited chatter, bouncing Klingonese off one another so fast that the translator could only catch part of it. Just as suddenly one stood out from the crowd, apparently appointed.

“Epatai,” he bowed. “We are honored to be in your presence. We have a question.”

B'Elanna grimaced at Xepal for starting this. Then she made a motion with her hand. “Go ahead.”

“Are you mated?” He stepped forward a little. “If not...”

Before he could get much further, there was a burble and then another, and he realized that there were chuckles coming from the people manning stations around the impressive warp core. Then he realized that the chuckles were expanding, like an energy stream crossing into another, until the second deck was also caught up in the laughter. Then Xepal, who terrified him, began to outright laugh – which only frightened him more. He fully expected to be struck down right that very moment.

It went on until the only ones not laughing were the Klingons. Even the Starfleet crew had started to laugh, though they couldn't have told anyone why.

B'Elanna just crossed her arms, rolled her eyes and waited it out. “Give them a moment, they'll get over it. To answer your question. I am mated.”

Some wag shouted down, “... and how!”

Suddenly there was another roar of laughter that seemed unstoppable.

Finally, Xepal managed to get control of herself, enough to wipe her eyes and say, “I'm sorry. That was just so unexpected.” The commander gathered her thoughts. “To explain further...” she turned to B'Elanna, “...if you don't mind...”

“Go ahead.”

Xepal continued, “Epatai Torres is Bonded in the Zakeeri manner. She has several mates. Six I believe.”

“Wait.” B'Elanna stopped the Zakeeri, “How did you hear about that?”

“This is Voyager. Seven bonded is the logical number for a ship this size. Or do you only have four mates?” She looked at B'Elanna expectantly, daring her to make Xepal wrong.

“Oh. Right.” B'Elanna paused and then decided, 'what the hell.' She grinned slightly. “Yes. There's seven total in the group. Five here and two in the Alpha... well, they may be in the Beta Quadrant by now. They were going to search for Mother.”

The Klingons eyes were round and wide. “Six...” He was still catching up.

“Seven, total in the group.” confirmed Xepal with a nod to herself. She wasn't grinning, but her eyes were twinkling. She'd won a bet.

“Seven?!”

“Yes.” B'Elanna affirmed.

The Klingon looked back at his crew mates then at her. He took in a deep breath. “Epatai...I believe that I withdraw the...”

“Don't worry about it. Any other questions?”

“Many. But... I don't think I'm ready to ask them.”

“Understandable.” Then B'Elanna smiled wickedly. “Would you like to meet my kids? I think Seven of Nine has them working out in the Holodeck.” She turned to explain to Xepal. “Rebi has been anxious to start swinging a Bat’leth and got Ceduril interested. So Seven proposed to ...”

“Wait. I thought you said there were seven mates...”

“Yes.”

“But you are using Seven as a singular...”

“Seven of Nine is one of my mates.”

The Klingon who had been chosen was suddenly wishing he hadn't been. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I...”

“Xepal, why don't you take these lovely people out of my engine room and show them a Holodeck or something. I really do have things to do.”

“Right Chief.” The Zakeeri commander, now back to her usual stern self, turned towards the group. “Well? Come on.” Then she marched them back out into the corridor.


	4. Chapter 4

Xepal eventually did get them to the Holodecks on deck six, after taking the long fast route around. They'd met a group of the Glory Dragon Riding Club (GDRC) coming out of one deck. Those crew members had been laughing and joking on their way out. One of the newly popular uses of the Holodeck had become motorcycle or hotrod tours through the more scenic sites in the galaxy. The GDRC had formed when the Zakeeri had discovered the joys of hotrodding with Tom Paris. Then others had joined in and the group had expanded. It was a fun, convivial way to tour known space and visit places never seen before by many.

The GDRC stopped long enough to say hello and describe what they were doing to the mystified Klingon and the suddenly enthused (if out of breath) Starfleet officers. This was, after all, something familiar to them. Also, the encounter with the Chief Engineer had an unusual calming affect on everyone. The Klingons had been reassured since B'Elanna was obviously a Klingon of Status. The Starfleet personnel had been reassured by the easy laughter and relaxation of the obviously busy crew. They realized, perhaps subconsciously, that they really were not prisoners.

Once the Glory Dragon Riding Club finally departed, on the other side, out of the other Holodeck, Seven and family and the clan Sun Tiger began to exit. Everyone, except for Seven, who was carrying Emina, were holding Bat’leth – some smaller than others – and looked very mussed, scraped and happy. Xepal, specifically asked them to wait for a moment, so they could be introduced.

There was a sudden murmur from the Starfleet crew, who couldn't decide whether she was Borg or what. Seven of Nine didn't exactly fit the usual profile. Their quick and overly noisy conversation led to a bit of unusual sound from the taller security team members. It took a moment to realize that they were facing grunts of disapproval and lifted weapons. The Zakeeri made no obvious moves, but there was an extra hint of danger in their body language.

A red-headed Betazoid woman, who had no pips on her uniform, took immediate control of the Starfleet group and she demanded that the ensigns knock it off. Which, oddly, they did. Then she apologized to Seven of Nine for rudeness. That caused the ocular implant to rise, but otherwise Seven's expression remained reserved and calm. She accepted the apology. It also caused the security crew to relax around them again.

What was difficult, for the Betazoid at least, was to watch the happy expressions on the children's faces completely alter. They too took on composed expressions. Where there was joy, there was now somber and distant and coldly calculating observation.

A few ensigns were going to get kicked in the emotional shin later.

The Klingons, who had no idea who the Borg were, only saw a beautiful woman and lots of children. One of them said, “The mate.”

Another said, “One of the mates.”

Another, full of wonder and not a little turned on said, “You must be very fertile.” There was a purr in his voice. Enough of one that he got elbowed.

“Respect for the Epatai's mate. That is, unless you want to fight six challengers.”

“Uh...” He was thinking about it...

Seven of Nine cocked her head and an amused smile graced her face. But before she could answer, Xepal took on the task of actually introducing this part of the House Presba and the Sun Tiger clan.

The Klingons were charmed by the whole thing. They were fascinated by the children, who were each holding their own weapon. (Except for Emina, who was nestled against a warm breast and asleep, and that sight was disappointingly under the cover of a blanket. The blanket, due a fit of whimsy, had little pastel Bat’leth and dk-tahg decorating it.) That was an obvious evidence of the fitness of the parent to the Klingons. One of the first duties of a mother was to train her children in the ways of defense.

Then there were the Zakeeri, who behaved – as they were discovering on their tour – a little like the more familiar Lynxians. Only, without the fuzziness and the ears. A Lynxian might tempt you to cuddle. A Zakeeri, they were coming to understand, would cut your arm off before you thought of the notion. A Zakeeri with a Bat’leth was a wonder to behold. Especially since they looked so enthusiastic. That is, until the Starfleet crew had grumbled.

Now the Klingons turned, almost as one, to give that small group – except for the Betazoid – the evil eye. The Starfleet personnel shifted uncomfortably under the narrowed Klingon gaze.

Before things could get too tense though, Mezoti was the first to throw down the conversational gauntlet. She was impetuous that way. “Species 6822. You look different than my SoS.”

Distracted, one of the Klingons crouched a bit, to get on eye level with the child. “Do we now.” He growled playfully at her. “Do you know what we are?”

The young girl cocked her head and gave him such a look. He realized that she was evaluating him, assessing him deeply. She didn't smile, but she didn't retreat either. When she finally spoke, it was with great authority. “You are definitely Klingon. But different.” Then she asked a question and her expression began to warm up again. “Do you have a Bat’leth? My SoS gave me this one.” She hefted the small weapon, carefully, up for the Klingon to observe.

He grinned at her. “It seems like a fine weapon. I am grieved to say that my Bat’leth has gone the way of my ship.”

“My Mother can make you a new one, if you ask. She is very good with metals.” Mezoti offered. Seven of Nine turned to look at her daughter, but held her peace. It wasn't as if Mezoti wasn't speaking the truth. “Or Marnah can, but she likes to make the smaller knives.” Mezoti patted the hilt of a small blade at her side.

Azan and Rebi were about to join in, when Seven of Nine exercised parental authority. “My children, this conversation must wait.” She turned to Xepal and her group. “Perhaps we should go to the Mess Hall. If you care to join us,” and she included all of them in her invitation. “...we can set up the tables. It will be... less inconvenient for those who are trying to pass.”

Sheepishly, two crew persons, dressed in medieval costumes slid past the group towards Holodeck 2. “Thanks, Seven,” one of them offered as the doors swooshed open.

Again with that beautiful, gracious smile. “You are welcome.” Then she turned to look expectantly at the group.

Well, who would be dumb enough to pass up an invitation to lunch from her?

==^==

Seven's pace towards the Mess Hall was much more accommodating to frail mortals. For once, since their dismissal from the captain, the Starfleet officers felt like they could breathe. They could register the details. This time they encountered more people going to and fro. Some would stop to talk briefly with the people they knew and greet the people they didn't know in a friendly way. Some offered sincere condolences on the loss of their ships.

When they arrived, both the Starfleet and Klingon crew were feeling more personable towards the crew of Voyager. Not one of them thought this whole introduction to the ship and crew might have been manufactured by Xepal. There had been a reason she'd kept them moving. A weary people were too occupied to cause (a lot) of trouble and an encounter with Seven of Nine and her children could be very good for the soul; brisk in a good way, like early fall weather or a solid tub scrubbing.

By now, anyone who was in the Mess Hall had gotten used to what could almost be considered a ritual. People actually got up from where they were eating and started pulling tables and chairs together. Some of them sat down at the much longer table, anywhere they wanted, as if they'd been invited. Others got up and shifted their tables closer. Those who weren't interested or had their own conversations to attend, simply stayed where they were.

Xepal watched the reactions of the strangers carefully. She noted the Betazoid's amazement and the Klingons switch up to another level of confidence. The others looked a might confused, but they were gamely playing along as they picked up their trays and just randomly accepted what was put there. Xepal might not have made such a choice herself, but a distraction was a distraction. And the guests were still doing exactly what she wanted them to do. Keep 'em moving. Keep 'em confused. They're less likely to try and grab a gun that way.

The guests settled themselves around the table where ever they could find a space. Xepal noted that with the Voyager crew randomly interspersed between them, the guests almost immediately blended in. With a smile, Xepal took a portion of the current meal for herself; selectively, of course.

==^==

Ab'Liev Tertius was a blue planet in the yellow star system of Ab'Liev. From a human perspective, the third planet was very earth like, with vast oceans and comfortable sized continents. For all that, the system was only sparsely populated, since it was only recently added to the Klingon Empire. Some past advanced race had wiped the original population out, by whisking the primitives away. It had been almost... Borg-like. Whomever it was had never returned to the system. Nor had they marked it. The only remnant of the original species were some ancient clay vessels in sparse locations. The Klingons had found and claimed the whole system. And then it had been gifted entire to one Baron Tulek of House Qua'lon as a matter of honor for something his great, great grandfather was said to have done. Technically, just holding the system made Qua'lon one of the high middling houses, not quite minor any more and not quite major, since a major house had to have an accumulation of Honor, fame and wealth in enough combination to really be able to affect the Empire. It would make sense then, that a Great House, was a major house taken to a whole other level.

The Baron was an old school Klingon, economically speaking. He “employed,” slaves. He believed that carving out the resources from a planet like gutting a fish was a practical approach to resource management. He and his family partied like it was 2499 and went out on “glorious” hunts every now and then. From a Klingon perspective, Ab'Liev Tertius had a wealth of nasty predators, which were mean and vicious enough to test the metal of any warrior. It wasn't exactly a “settled,” planet.

Fortunately, for the third planet, the Baron had not yet begun digging into its soil. Why should he do that, when there were other resource rich planets and planetoids to plunder in system? He anticipated a long, prosperous life for himself.

Over the long haul, it wasn't looking too good for that particular system.

Upon their arrival, Miral Torres of the House Presba put in a call. It was received, but not answered. So she put in a second call and started making tallies. Even minor judges had certain authorities granted to them and once she had a certain tally point, she could take action. So now, it was a matter of waiting to see what the honorable Baron would do next.

==^==

The right thing for him to have done was to contact her and arrange to meet his contract. It wasn't like it was a huge amount for a person of his wealth. But it was somewhat substantial for the person to whom it was owed. Which is why she felt obligated to try.

The way it had fallen was this, the Baron was slumming on Forcas III. He had participated in a few tournaments and had ultimately lost. He'd then joined the general carousing that happened at such tournaments and decided to gamble.

And lost.

For whatever reason he had refused to pay. Instead he claimed the other party had cheated.

Which is what had led them in Miral's direction. She had adjudicated like she usually did, seeking at first a middle way. But since they were Klingon, they opted to fight.

The Baron had lived and lost and still refused to pay.

So, Miral had gone to the next step of contacting the House of Records and submitted the judgment along with a list of witnesses. The problem was, since she was a minor judge, if she wanted to make the ruling stick – outside of Klingon Honor that is – she was going to have to enforce it herself or go through the full boring method of ... paperwork. She wasn't sure how far she would go with it, but Miral had always been stubborn and a bit different.

Now, the resolution of the matter was all still quite minor. Even if Baron Tulek refused to pay, his House could – technically – fulfill the contract and the issue would be done and handled. But Klingon tradition required that she at least try to get Tulek to honor his commitment.

Some people just let pride and wealth get in the way of the path.

So, with the fifth strike on the page, Miral of Torres contacted the House of Records again.

She hadn't expected any particular results. She was just keeping the record hall apprised. Her next step would be to physically visit the House and see if she could get entrance. Or, barring that, see if she could find a willing cousin who was honorable.

What she received though was a surprise. Later that night, she was contacted by an elderly looking Klingon who asked her a few pointed questions about the House Presba. For instance, was it true that there were now more than ten members of the House Presba.

Well, she had to answer yes. Even though there was quite a distance between them all at the moment.

Was it true that the House Presba now boasted two Ambassadors? One from Betazed and One from Vulcan? Miral had said yes again, and though she tried to explain how that really didn't mean anything ... he had cut her off.

He then asked her several more confusing, but answerable questions, until he finally asked her how long she had been a level seven judge.

She answered him and explained that she had been a bar tender and had done the judging part time. It had started as an accident, a favor for a friend, and she'd only been doing it for going on six years or so.

“You look younger than I expected. But I've heard good things about you,” the man gruffed. “I hear that people seek you out. I hear that you are fair and brave and take on challenges that others have avoided.”

“I've said 'no' often enough,” she'd said, folding her arms and narrowing her gaze. Now she knew something was up.

“Well, I've got something you won't be able to say no to. It comes from higher up than me.”

Mentally, Miral began to cuss. But she held her tongue. She knew whatever it was, she wasn't going to like it.

Then he told her that there were other problems with House Qua'lon besides the one little case that she was chasing. In fact there was a full double handful of files of “little” cases and a handful of larger cases, which topped with hers made it just that much bigger. And, since she was the only one who had the hearts to pursue matters - and that for a smaller case - then she might as well handle the rest of it too. He'd be sending along files and more documents, which she would be responsible for parsing, mediating, adjudicating and whatnot. Then he had told her that, given new information about the House Presba and the huge case load regarding House Qua'lon she would need a higher authority.

He said he'd discussed it with the other judges...

Other judges?!

...and there needed to be no doubt that she had a right to pursue the case on behalf of the Empire. Thus she was no longer a level seven judge, but a level two with all the duties, responsibilities, rights, and privileges there of.

She'd tried to stall him with a “Wait a minute. That's quite a jump there. I'm a competition and minor disputes judge, not a ...”

But she before she could say more the gruff man had taken a sizable stamp and pounded it hard onto document of some sort. The loud bang sounded like a knell of doom. The thing is, with Klingons, once authority is given, it stays. Miral was no longer a minor judge. She was now a higher middling one. Just a few steps away from an Imperial Judge.

It took everything in her not give evidence of the shakes that rushed up from her feet, legs and spine.

“Try to do your usual mediation first.” He said, sounding a bit like he'd seen such a thing first hand. And it was possible. It was possible. She never stopped an audience from gathering on Forcas III. He continued helpfully, “Hopefully someone in that House isn't a complete moron. Give them a chance to have an out with dignity and Honor. But if they won't take it, do what you must.” He gave her sharp-eyed look, “You may seek assistance from whomever you need, kin or otherwise, to in order to resolve this matter quickly. You may utilize the power of the Full Circle of Honor, if necessary. If it comes to a battle circle, the champion will receive ownership of the whole system. Understand? You'll see why when you read the files. What the Empire giveth, the Empire can take away. This is why it is better to win one's own battles. What one wins oneself, one can keep. Now, say thank you,” the elderly Klingon had said, giving her a stern, intimidating glare.

At that point it all clicked and she realized that she had to be speaking to one of the Great Judges.

She somehow found her voice and managed a bow. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Go fix this for the Honor of the Empire. That PetaQ has caused us more trouble than he's worth. Quapla!” He grinned at her, then the communications cut off.

She had to sit down for a moment after that. Then she realized she already had been. “Oh. Kahless.”

==^==

Lwaxana Troi was dressed in an incredibly skimpy forest green robe when she answered the door. It was parted in ways designed to distract even the most unaware person. “May I help you, Ensign?”

The young man in question, who may have seen in a lot in his time, but had rarely encountered an ambassador who looked as good as Lwaxana, forgot to mention why he was there and shoved a PADD in her general direction.

She laughed in amusement at his retreat and stepped back into her quarters.

“Mother, you are a cruel woman.” Deanna, who was dressed just as skimpily in a different color robe, scooped another spoonful of Sundae. Lately she'd decided to embrace some of the more ... relaxed Betazed ways. She figured she'd get over the impulse soon enough.

“I prefer to think of it as enhancing my ambassadorial status. A little good will goes a long way.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Besides, most Humans, aside from our Janeways and your father, need a reminder now and then that they aren't the only superior beings in the Universe.” There was a hint of longing in Lwaxana's emotions.

“There is that,” responded her daughter acerbically. Deanna still wasn't very happy with one particular Human at the moment, but she did look up from her dessert. “You miss...” She had to run through their names in her mind. “...Kathryn very much.”

“I miss them all, darling. T'Pel makes it bearable. As I make it bearable for her. And I know... they miss us just as much.” There was a delicate shiver and she glanced at her bedroom door with a hungry look. Then she brought her expression back to its usual genteel mask. “I do not think it would be... doable... without her.”

Deanna radiated concern.

“Don't worry, daughter,” her mother said in Presba Tongue, “We'll be alright.” Lwaxana sat down besides her daughter and scooped a little ice cream for herself. Then, after delighting in the taste, she decided to take a look at the PADD. She read through the message quickly. “Interesting. I think I'm going to have to disturb T'Pel.”

“Like you weren't going to do that anyway.”

“True. But it was for an entirely different reason.” She glanced up at her daughter, who did appear to be feeling somewhat better. “Hang around a bit dear, you'll probably be interested.”

“Oh, I wasn't going to go anywhere. Mr. Sundae and I are going to have another date. A very short and chocolaty one.”

Lwaxana laughed and leaned over and ruffled her daughter's lovely hair affectionately. “You do that dear. But, honestly, there are others whom ...”

“Don't say it. I'm ... not ready to give up on Will quite yet.”

“Did I say you should? On the other hand, I will say, until T'Pel, I'd never considered a woman as a mate. I’d slept with some lovely women in my time, but that was for fun. Nor had I considered the option of many versus one. But knowing what I do now...”

“Did I ever tell you about a vacation I had with Beverly Crusher a few years back? We visited Risa.”

“Darling.” Lwaxana pressed her hand to her own barely covered, amply endowed chest in mockery. “You have scandalized me.” Then she smiled warmly. She was just honestly glad they were finally talking again. And all it had taken was a miracle. “I look forward to hearing all about it. But first... let me go disturb my mate and our lovely In-Laws. We have a message from Admiral Paris.”

==^==

Miral was still in her office, staring at a blank screen when Phoebe found her. “Miral? Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Phoebe drew closer and actually knelt besides the obviously shaken warrior. “What happened?”

“I'm a judge.”

Phoebe took a moment to patch that with what she already knew. “Well, we've seen you work on a couple of cases...”

Miral gripped one of the forearms of her daughter-in-law's sister. “No. I mean they made me a ... real... judge.”

“Who?”

“They did. The Grand Court. I...”

“Miral?”

“There is a problem with the House Qua'lon so big... that they made me a real judge.”

Phoebe wasn't sure how to handle this. But she realized that Miral wasn't quite focusing yet. And this was a Klingon. She took a moment and gathered her thoughts. “What can we do to help?”

Miral looked at her and blinked. “Do you know how to wield a Bat’leth?”

“Uh... not yet.”

Miral began to chuckle, but not in a really laughing kind of way.

Phoebe thought now might be a good time to bring up a new topic. “Miral. Lwaxana sent me. Admiral Paris has sent a message that she thinks you might want to hear.”

“I can send people to Rura Penthe and no one would ever question the decision.” There was a dangerous tone in her voice. “I hold life and death in my hands. I...” and there was a bit of a snarl, scary and intense. “I have to wear robes.”

“Miral. You are an honorable person. You can be trusted to do the right thing. Whatever this ... Grand Court did... they did it because they know that you will do what needs to be done. And...” Phoebe gripped Miral's arm tightly in return. “You have us. You have your family Miral. You're not alone in this. We will do whatever needs to be done to support you. Right?” She shook that arm. “Right? That's what this ... House Presba thing is all about right? I mean I know I'm not part of the House and all, but you're family and where I come from Family does for Family.”

Miral suddenly focused on Phoebe, the artist who didn't know how to use a Bat’leth yet, and drew in a breath. “Who said you were not of the House Presba? You speak the tongue. Kahless himself has marked you. You're of the House. Never doubt it.”

Now it was Phoebe who had a moment. “I...You'll have to tell Mom. She thinks we're just... that ... I mean we're not Klingon. We're not even..”

“Phoebe...” this time Miral took the younger woman's face in her hands. “Family does for Family. And your names will go on the records. You and Gretchen will not be left out. We'll make sure of it.” Miral closed her eyes for a moment, considering. “Let's go see what news Lwaxana brings us and then we will discuss it more.” She glanced around her office space, which suddenly seemed much more necessary than it had ten minutes ago. “We'll discuss everything. Yes?”

==^==

Admiral Paris' message had to do with an offer to transfer any messages to Voyager. The message had actually been for T'Pel, Phoebe and Gretchen, and he had taken advantage that they were all gathered in one handy location. Little did he realize...

Naturally, those on board the Bradbury had a few things to say to their kin on Voyager. They would come up with a coherent message together.

They sat around the comfortable wide family area in various states of dress. After Lwaxana's news, Miral shared hers and then the conversation really began.

“You know,” began Deanna thoughtfully, “now you don't have to go see them. They are obligated to come see you.”

Miral gave her a curious look.

The Betazoid counselor went on. “Send a messenger. Malvok maybe. Or maybe Asil or both. I'd go if you wanted. But you... you are Her Right Honorable now. They come to you and go where you say to go. Set the date, place and time...”

Miral began to nod, seeing where her granddaughter was going with this.

Gretchen spoke up, “I know you have to read the records yourself, but... I am good with numbers, if you need that kind of help.”

“I will need that kind of help. He's a gambler. Who knows who else he has stiffed. Or how his business has gone. I'll have to look at more than just his files. Also, Gretchen, you are of the House. I told Phoebe. Now I tell you, so you will worry no more.”

Gretchen absorbed that and felt an odd lightening in her chest. She hadn't even known it was important to her. “I will do my best to honor this House, Miral.”

“Your existence honors it.” Miral smiled and spoke warmly, sincerely, “Not all House matters are dk-tahg waving, fight in the circle kinds of things. Sometimes it's the way flowers are arranged. Or an equation is made perfect. Your contribution to the House is and will be important, Gretchen.” The Human woman blushed under Miral's direct gaze, but nodded her understanding.

Now Asil spoke. “You mentioned that you plan on investigating Tulek, and by extension, his Household affairs. If you would like, research is something I am very good at.”

“You are also very good at swinging a sword. I may need that skill more. I may need to appoint a champion and our choices are limited. The judge who contacted me implied that a member of House Presba would be suitable. If it came to that. I would rather you practiced as, if I need you to to be my champion, I would want you to win the battle. I will not be able to act as champion since I am the judge.”

“Wait a minute, I thought I'd be the one learning how to use a Bat’leth,” Phoebe joked.

“Oh, you'll learn it alright. All of you will. For the sake of the House. But if I put you in the circle now, what would you do? Throw paint at him?”

“Well, there is that. Although I'm renowned for the way I throw paint.”

“Which brings me to... We are beginning to draw attention. The judge asked me some very interesting questions during his interview with me. House Presba has a bit more ... status than we used to. We will have to be very careful. Presba is still a minor house, but it could go either way now. We may find more important persons trying to contact us. Some more interested in our welfare than others.”

“Do I need to ask the captain to beef up security?”

“Not yet, but we may soon need to consider a family residence, its location and... acquiring servants. It's a Klingon status thing. I'd rather not have them, since then you must care for them.” They looked at her strangely. But said nothing. That was one of the things she liked about her new family.

“Do you want the residence in Klingon space or Federation?” Lwaxana asked. “I have contacts.”

“Klingon would be best, but it wouldn't hurt to have both.”

“You already have a residence in Federation space.” T'Pel pointed out. “On Vulcan. Our home is large enough to qualify.”

Lwaxana gave her mate an incredibly affectionate look. “And, if Betazed is ever freed, there will also be the Home of the Troi's. Troi of Presba has a very nice ring to it.”

“Yes. It does.”

Miral grunted. “I should have known to talk to you all first.”

“So, I'll look for property in Klingon space.”

“Yes. Though I should mention, should it come to taking to the circle of Battle, the stakes are very high. Winner takes all.” Miral now looked at T'Pel. “I am playing with my grand daughter's life and now am asking if you, her mother, T'Pel will take on the task of research in her place.” The Vulcan nodded gracefully.

“Also, though I hesitate to say this, I have a small nest egg. We ought to look into... investments in other kinds of properties.”

“Business types of investments?” Phoebe suddenly looked crafty. “I have a few... contacts. I had to do something with the money I was making with my artwork,” she explained.

“Miral, you do not have to worry about financing. There are...” Lwaxana looked at her daughter, who nodded serenely. “... things you ought to know about the Trois. You, my dear mother, are aligned with the Fifth House of Betazed. Our family wealth was not solely inheritance, nor was all of it based Betazed. Dear, you are rich.”

Miral blinked for a bit. “How can I be rich?”

“Family members draw a stipend. I added your name the night after...,” Lwaxana actually blushed and glanced meaningfully at T'Pel. “ When we found Gretchen and Phoebe I added their names too. When Betazed is freed, the name of House Presba will be aligned with the Trois. It will be Troi-Presba. It is not unprecedented, and should not make as great a stir as it might have in the past. Betazed will need its allies. It is unfortunate, but my people are not too happy with the Federation at this moment. T'Pel has already put the name Presba in the Hall of Records on Vulcan. Of course, I won't go into what investments T'Pel has made on our behalf since. You may recall that the Epatai did put her in charge of such matters.” Lwaxana smiled and touched her fingertips to T'Pel's. “My mate happens to be a financial wizard. This family does not lack for funding. Nor for options of defense or offense. The only reason we are on a Federation ship is that they needed us. Not that we needed them. You understand?”

Phoebe gave T'Pel a speculative look. “A financial genius. My dear sister T'Pel will you look at my finances and make it all better?” T'Pel raised her eyebrow, but she nodded. The Vulcan was a woman of few words. “Thank you. I'll show you in the morning.” Phoebe grimaced at her mother. “Don't give me that look. I know everyone likes to pretend the Federation lives only off its replicators, but really there are some things only money can buy.”

“I remind you that there were no replicators in my house, Phoebe Janeway. That's not what the look is about. I am...” Gretchen smiled whimsically, “... just seeing you in a different light. I had no idea you were part Ferengi.”

“Oh, sweet Kahless.” Miral needed a moment.

After that, they began to talk about the message to Voyager.


	5. Chapter 5

Kathryn Janeway could not have verbally told anyone how she knew. But she was aware, before she witnessed. She glanced back, turning in her chair, and saw them staring at each other. So she asked, since she could.

“Ready Room or Home?”

They look back at her, needful, yet both somehow managing that blank poker face. Her decision was easy. “Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Ro, you are dismissed. I'll see you in three hours.”

One of them had to stay. She was captain. That was just the way it was.

Thank god they didn't argue with her. They just left. The turbolift doors shushed them away from her view.

Chakotay leaned over. “I can...”

The growl she directed at him was abrupt, wounded animal dangerous. He stat back, stunned. She reminded herself, again, that he didn't know what it was like – couldn't know. “Don't push.”

She settled back in her chair, just trying not to feel them for a moment, waiting for the distance to make it a little better. It never did. She should realize that by now. Once it started, it flowed over them all, like magma. And all it could take was a look. They would be conversing normally and then something would spark. She had no idea how Lwaxana and T'Pel handled it, because it was hardly bearable that they were so far away when it was like this.

And she knew... she knew ... that there was no distance that was far enough to not need them.

As individuals they had great self control. If needed, there were ways. She could have made them stay and they would have done their job as if nothing were firing behind their eyes. But it hurt and there was always a payment to the Universe to be made.

In her case, she focused very hard on being the captain. There were so many things that needed doing. She listed them out in her head, slowly; reminded herself to go to sick bay before heading home. There were wounded to see.

She turned, “I'm sorry Chakotay. It was a family thing.”

He nodded, this time without giving her that weird look. This time he just accepted what she had to say. Thank God. He never knew how close he came to being dead.

So many times. It hadn't just been Laren and B'Elanna. But she would never tell him that. He was her friend, after all.

“I need to go to my ready room for a moment. I'll be back.”

“Of course, Captain.”

One of her assistants, Ensign Anderson, was in there. “Coffee, Black.” The captain paused, “Please.” Then Kathryn Janeway went and sat at her desk. Only three hours. She could do three hours.

==^==

They used the second floor entrance, the one keyed only to the adults. Anyone could exit, but only the adults could enter at that point. There were many days when they praised that arrangement. The next door they picked was the closest – Tuvok's room. He was the one who often had to leave running. Security was that way sometimes. He never locked his door any more. He was more secure in his new abode than he had ever been elsewhere. There was a benefit to having Borg as family.

They brushed up against each other, stumbling through without any thought of doing so, stripping off each other's clothes. Each touch was more heated than the last. Each kiss more furiously intense.

Many assumed Vulcans only had sex once every seven years. It was a common misunderstanding of the mating drive. Like other sentient species, they were able and did often make love with their mates. The drive was to find and claim the mate and to conceive. The privilege and reward was to love the mate, afterwards. It was part of what made distances so difficult.

It was a real sacrifice. No human would ever under.... no.... that wasn't true. Fact. There were two now. Two who understood completely. And one was making the sacrifice of time for them. It was very Vulcan of her.

Another, logical like he, yet overflowing with emotion, would be there soon. He looked forward to it. He growled, unsmiling, but needful against the Bajoran's kisses, returning them in full.

Somehow they made it through the door to the nest. Her legs were clamped about him now and he was pressed deep within her. He carried her easily. She was weightless in his arms when it was like this.

Logic did not cover this part of the Vulcan world. It never did. Never had. It was one of the great secrets.

He held her against a wall, filling her, moving with her need. She called to him. They called to him. Always behind his eyes. Always in his heart. Always.

Across space, he felt the shadow of T'Pel. They reached to each other, touching and being touched. He felt the reflection of Lwaxana through her and she felt the reflection of their mates through him. It was just ... more of a whisper... than when the Ponn Farr raged through them. Words wouldn't carry. Only sensation.

And this was close. This constant urgency of a fire that was never quite banked and always glowing was so very near to that primitive yearning that it always caught him by surprise. It was as if...

He had no real label for it. And thinking was quickly vanishing for him. Now all was moving, touching and tasting.

They had a bond, he and his mates. They had a bond and a need for each other. And it was all he needed to know at the moment.

==^==

B'Elanna had just been crouching down to open a console when the rush hit. Her hands flashed out and grabbed the bottom edge of the console. She held on tight and it buckled under her grip.

That was the third one in two weeks.

Once she was ready, she stood up and tapped her comm badge. She made a couple of orders and logged out for the day. She knew she wouldn't be coming back soon, unless there was a red alert.

She gathered her tools into the wrap and took it with her.

The turbolift, thank Kahless, was empty. She contemplated just stripping. But, at the next stop there were other passengers waiting. Seven of Nine, two of the guesting Klingons and a well known family friend. B'Elanna couldn't dredge up a smile. Her attention was focused firmly on her mate.

Utexic took one look at her; even as the Klingons were abruptly inhaling and getting that certain look in their eyes. The scent of instant arousal was a hard one to ignore. B'Elanna's lips curled away from sharp teeth. Seven of Nine made a growling, soft noise that thrilled through pretty much anyone who was present. The Zakeeri grasped the arms of the Klingons and yanked them back before they could think they were invited. “We'll take the next lift, Epatai. Take your mate and go home. Right now.”

“We're going,” she growled. She held her hand out and Seven of Nine clasped it as she stepped into the lift. Then B'Elanna yanked the gorgeous woman into her arms. They were abruptly kissing, hard. There was the sound of shredded cloth and Seven of Nine's back was exposed to view.

“Of course, Chief.” Utexic bowed and her grip forced the Klingons to do the same. “Happiness to your Clan.”

The turbolift doors shut and the Zakeeri breathed a very big sigh of relief. Then she abruptly let go of the startled Klingons. There weren't many who could just yank a full grown Klingon around. “Gentlemen, I just saved your life. You owe me a beer.”

Inside the Turbolift, Seven of Nine pulled back long enough to place a lock on the doors. They wouldn't open until they were at their floor.

Then she and B'Elanna went right back to the heated embrace.

Seven experienced amusement at her Klingon's hastiness, but kept it to herself. Instead she simply pulled B'Elanna's shirt out of the tuck and then snaked her hands up the warm torso of her beloved. “I have mentioned that I love the way your skin feels before, but feel the need to reiterate it now. B'Elanna,” she whispered, “I love the way you feel. I enjoy running my hands on the surface of you. The sounds you make because of the way I touch you...” She purred directly into the Klingon's ears, “...drive me wild.”

In the past, if someone had told B'Elanna that she would find herself in a turbolift being touched intimately by Seven of Nine, she would have laughed outright. Now she just melted, groaned into ex-drone's sensual exploration and words. B'Elanna's fingertips were drawing their own trail along Seven of Nine's skin, seeking out the responsive implants spread in places along the ex-drone's back and spine.

Seven shivered at the physical contact, roused and kissed B'Elanna harder.

There was a chime and they were suddenly at their floor.

B'Elanna forced herself away from her mate.

With surprising dignity they exited the lift. B'Elanna looked slightly mussed. Seven's shirt remained torn at the back.

The individuals who waited at the lift for their ride made no comment. They were getting used to it.

==^==

The captain stood over the bio-bed looking at the familiar face. Of all the people in the galaxy... “She looks good.” she commented, more to herself than anyone else.

“They made them get rejuvenation, before sending them out on the front lines. She could have waited, but it is...was... getting bad out there. She was an admiral, but she took a cut in rank so she could get out there.”

Kathryn's expression quirked in humor. “She would.” Then she looked up at the Betazoid and didn't bother mentally hiding. That surprised the young woman. “Counselor Priam Nael,” she acknowledged. “Welcome aboard. I wish I could say that under better circumstances.”

“I...” The good counselor was still processing what she'd just learned. “Thank you, captain.”

“Hmmmpph.”

Kathryn stared down at the other who once had been an admiral. “The choices we make can have interesting consequences.” She closed her eyes against a shiver of need. “I'm going to have to leave soon. I just wanted to see for myself.”

“I understand.”

Again there was that quirky half smile. “Of course you do. I understand that more than I used to.” The captain glanced at the occupants of the other beds. She'd stopped to observe them earlier. Dr. Pulaski had been her last visit.

She glanced back at her friend, a physician who worried and was still hovering. “He is an excellent Doctor, isn't he?”

Counselor Nael glanced back and smiled. “He is unique.”

“I know. All my people are. I value them greatly.” She sighed. “I suppose, depending on what you all decide, I'm going to have to urge him more strongly to pick a name.”

“Captain...”

Kathryn raised a hand and shook her head. “It's not a statement meant to pressure a decision. Just commentary. Planning.” She touched Kate's face gently.

“Of all the people.” She looked back at the Betazoid. “I suppose it's lucky we haven't met yet, isn't it.”

Counselor Nael felt a bit out of her depth, but she was trained very well and could think on her feet. She pulled herself together and answered quickly. “Yes. Captain. It is lucky.”

Captain Kathryn Janeway dropped her hand and stepped back. She smiled at the counselor as if she didn't feel the pain and let go of another piece of her past. She brought her barriers up, laying those thoughts back in the depth of her consciousness. Then she turned around and left the sick bay. She didn't look back.

==^==

Otherwise the week went by quickly. The Zakeeri clans basically took over introducing the Klingons to Voyager's community. There was enough compatibility that the uninjured Klingons were kept pretty entertained and busy. Some of them even formally joined the Glory Dragon Riding Club. There was talk of asking the Captain to form a second squadron based on the club. One for away missions as well as fighting.

The Starfleet crew, except for the commanders Tucker and Magnum, Dr. Pulaski and Counselor Nael, treated the week like a surprise vacation. No one begrudged them. The Dominion War was obviously wearing on the soul of the fleet.

Dr. Pulaski was too busy healing and bitching to be on vacation. She was visited once by the captain, who'd kept a composed countenance the whole time during a “release me,” tirade. Then the good doctor was given the gift of a force five captain's “you will stay in sick bay or suffer the consequences,” rant that was somehow directed at all of the patients, including three Klingons. The Klingons had been amazingly intimidated by the smaller woman. By the time she was done no one wanted to test her out.

The doctor took it surprisingly well considering. Maybe it had been the undeniable, but inexplicable tone of affection in the captain's voice that had done it. Or maybe Dr. Pulaski was just irascible and bored and needed the entertainment. Either way that rant had given Dr. Pulaski something to think on. Captain Janeway had called her Kate in a mysteriously familiar way at least once during the dress down.

Counselor Nael wanted to work. She was given an office on one of the new decks created as a temporary accommodation and she began counseling immediately. It was no surprise that there were people who needed, desperately, to talk. And the normalcy of the process helped her to find her own ground again. But if the Long Table was being set up in the Mess Hall, she made sure to turn the open sign around and head out. That was quickly becoming where she did her real work.

Commanders Tucker and Magnum were focused on finding a “way back.” Kathryn Janeway didn't spend time trying to convince them of what they could or could not do. They'd find out soon enough. She understood the need. It had been her bane for years. Besides in the unlikely event that they planned on hijacking anything, well, there was always an airlock. Voyager kept an eye on them as well. Sarah Tucker was no Ransom. She was still strong in her ideals.

As for the Voyager crew, aside from the visitors, things were business as usual. Work was work and training and evaluation continued. They were still looking for a long term port of stay since there were yet more important changes to make to Voyager. The captain still wanted that ablative armor.

Those of the guests who wished to participate in jobs and training were invited. Those who didn't weren't pressured.

==^==

Commander Sarah Tucker was having difficult days. It wasn't that the crew of Voyager were unpleasant. Or even that Captain Janeway was an overseer. In fact, now that Sarah had a chance to calm down about everything, she realized the Captain had been very practical in her approach to the problem. And kind.

It was just difficult to face that she, Sarah Tucker, had lost her first ship. Not only lost it, but completely demolished that faithful little scout. It was for a good cause, yes. It saved lives, yes. But her ship... her poor ship.

And then there was the crisis at home.

There had to be a way to get back. There was a war on and she had people who had been depending upon her.  
Getting help to the right people at the right time had been one of the reasons she'd accepted the position in the first place. Before that she'd been fleet Marine and had fully planned on going out in a blaze of glory. But duty had called her to something different.

She knew that the Voyager crew had been through the process of trying to figure a way. But that did not mean they hadn't missed something.

She had come to admire Commander Magnum's unorthodox style. He had a brain behind the brawn and she trusted his evaluations. He'd been first officer of the scout before she'd taken the position of Captain. And he hadn't given her an ounce of grief over it. That was unusual in anyone. But Steve, she'd found, was an unusual man.

So she and Steve dug through Voyager's copious database. There was so much. Seven years worth of information that showed the struggle. It was amazing and disheartening at the same time.

Sarah was slowly coming to realize just how hard these people had fought and continued to fight to get home. There was so much to admire and yet she was still so angry. Worse, she knew she was behaving badly around others, snarling and not at all like her usual amiable self.

Not one of them, not even her old crew, took her to task for it, which only added to her guilty burden.

A part of her could have... okay... did .... blame Janeway. After all, if Janeway hadn't pulled them in, they'd all be...

...blown to bits and space chunks.

That didn't help. There was a niggling part of her that thought it might have been better. The rest of her knew that what she wanted to do was blame somebody for the mess she'd gotten herself into with those Orion Syndicate pirates. She had yet to face that because of her actions a good fifty plus people were free and alive.

Counselor Nael told her it was just part of the grieving process and Sarah ought to trust her own process.

But at the moment, she wouldn't trust herself with anything more than a PADD. And she had trashed plenty of those against the walls anyway.

==^==

Of course the whole week couldn't go by without the Delta Quadrant granting them a shake up. The Kazon who attacked were far from their normal territory, and there were a lot of them.

“Send out the squadron,” Captain Janeway had ordered. Having the might of the flying ships added immensely to Voyager's firepower. Besides, the Zakeeri were very skilled pilots. Of course, it was a bit like watching Chihuahuas take on Dobermans, but the Zakeeri knew what they were doing.

The Three Sisters and the other three Zakeeri ships took flight from the Docking Bay, flying out like bees from the nest. There was chatter as Sofuru directed his squadron into battle and the teams responded. Then the cajoling and taunting began as the Zakeeri opened the lines so that the Kazon (and Voyager) could hear them.

The Zakeeri tossed insults like candy at a parade and the Kazon, who were prideful, took after them for it. Which was fine, since the smaller ships weaved in and out of Kazon fire like they were dancing.

The Kazon would turn and lumber after the smaller ship, which was the intent of the flyers, and then the Zakeeri would make their own hard strikes – often diving into the flames right after with complete fearlessness.

Every shot fired at them was one not fired at Voyager. And the little ships, and their people, loved Voyager. They would defend her to the death. Not that any of them intended to die. There was a reason that Zakeeri were cocky. They were very good at what they did.

Voyager, meanwhile, was doing her part. She wasn't taunting the Kazon into firing, but she was defending herself. She helped with managing the power allocations to shields and phasers, since she could do that faster than a human could. She helped tactical by highlighting vulnerable spots on the Kazon ships. Then, she stayed out of Tuvok's way, since he had a very precise and effective process for strike backs. But she watched him, in case she ever had to do it herself. Learning was always something that Voyager was doing.

She and Stinging Sparrow had a running commentary going on of their own. Voyager could estimate within a certain percentage the next viable location of a Kazon vessel in relation to the smaller ones. She passed that information on as quickly as she could. Yet Voyager also tried not to back seat drive, since the little ship needed to be able to trust her own flight plan. So she didn't say things like “Duck!,” though she often wanted to. She loved the Zakeeri right back.

The Kazon were not completely inept. They wouldn't have survived so deep into the Delta Quadrant if they didn't have skills. One Kazon vessel got blazing little shot across Stinging Sparrow bow. Right after that an unannounced lance of light burst forth from Voyager to sting the Kazon right back. The power of it had sent the now toasty looking Kazon ship spinning away from the battle.

A rumpled Captain Janeway clenched her teeth to keep from saying anything. She couldn't blame the ship, but there would be a bit of talking about appropriate use of fire power after the battle. More, she wanted to know where the extra energy had come from and how they could harness that lance more effectively. It had not exactly been a phaser blast.

Things were sparking and people were looking jostled by the time the battle was over, but Voyager and her crew won it decisively.

The Kazon declared themselves done and went limping away to lick their wounds. The Zakeeri, surprisingly, did not jeer at the Kazon for losing. Instead they applauded them, as if they'd been merely been playing a game of ball.

Which, maybe from the Zakeeri perspective they had been. Sofuru had personally sent out a message of praise. “You fought well. You will be honored in song and story. If we meet again, we will drink and have a meal.”

The Kazon had responded surprisingly well to that and it was probably the best ending to a battle with the irascible aliens Captain Janeway had ever witnessed.

==^==

The Klingons of the destroyed IKS Gortuk gathered in the Holodeck. The Holodeck was set to display a typical Klingon Pub, which was a borrowed file from the Epatai. She had wanted them to be comfortable on board the ship and had known they might need a place to relax that wasn't quite so... pristine.

The ambiance of the Serpent's Stein was appropriately grungy, pointy, and dark. They'd gone ahead and deleted all the holo-Klingons except for the Barkeep and they'd made him a mute. For the time being.

Now they gathered in the pub to talk, really talk about what they wanted to do next. Bloodwine was served and snacks were set out. Several of the Klingons sat around with their boots on the tables and cup in their hands. The talk was loud and boisterous until Commander Veckma called them to order.

“Today,” he began, “there was a great battle.” He looked around at the silent group of men. “And we missed out on it.” Now there were disappointed rumble. He continued. “We have had time now to see what these people are like.” He lifted his fist and shook it. He growled. “The Gortuk is no more. You have followed me well. My question for you is, will you follow me again?”

There were shouts of approval.

==^==

Later that week, Commander Sarah Tucker stepped out of the Ready Room with a dazed expression on her face. She then said, “Captain Janeway, the Admiral would like to speak to you now.”

The smaller woman nodded. “Thank you, Commander. Lieutenant Ro you have the conn. Ensign Anderson, you're with me.”

Kathryn entered the ready room and sat down at her desk. Then she greeted Admiral Paris and they exchanged a few pleasantries. She did tell him about the Ensign's presence, and asked him if it was top secret. He said it wasn't. “Now, Admiral. Perhaps we might cut to the chase.”

“The problem is, the chase is somewhat convoluted, Kathryn. Here's what is going to happen. The scout crew and the medical staff are now yours. Put them where you need them.” He lifted his hand up before she could interrupt. “We'll be sending more accurate personnel files your way now that we know they're safely in your hands. You don't know how happy we were to hear that there were survivors. From our end it looked like they were terminated. Are the Klingons going to stay?”

“We don't know yet. I've offered them the opportunity to leave at the next port. But we do have an active recruitment system now, so if they join us, we're prepared.”

“Seems fair. Give them what they need, if they go. Whenever they're actually from, they're our allies now. Even if it's a bit shaky.”

“Of course.”

“I have encrypted files for you. Some Fleet and some personal. I recently contacted,” he tugged at his collar a bit and she thought she could see a faint red coloring to his cheeks. “... your mates on this side of the galaxy. They have sent you several packets that you'll want to see. But ... uh... I suggest that you watch packets 5 and 6 in private.”

“Admiral...”

“Starfleet has to check its messages Kathryn.”

Kathryn grinned. “Well, fortunately, most of the adults in my family aren't shy. As long as it doesn't make it to the Porn section of LCARs I guess we're alright.”

He managed to color even more.

“Is there anything else I can,” she hesitated to do it, but couldn't resist. She dropped her voice a bit, “...do for you.”

There was a pause. “You are an evil woman, Captain Janeway. Deplorable.”

She tilted her head in a nod. “Thank you, Admiral. So are we status quo?”

“Almost. Be aware that we think there is something going on with the Orion syndicate.” He raised his hands. “I know, it's almost redundant information. But you might find it useful. We think they are trying to figure out a way to get to the Gamma Quadrant.”

“They want to ally with the Dominion? That is surprising. Normally the syndicate tried to play itself as neutral. More parties to buy and sell to... ”

“Not so surprising once you realize that they recently changed bosses. The syndicate is being run by a Cardassian family. We are working on who, but the Syndicate has been much less discriminate about who they attack or how they get their slaves. The Steele isn't the only scout ship we've lost to them. With the war on haven't got the man power to go out and really make them pay for it. So we're building a tally. But that doesn't help our people now. It's more frightening when you think that they're trying to open up portals to the other side of the galaxy and...” he grimaced. “... possibly succeeding. They may already be in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn.”

“And it suddenly explains the tachyon emissions. Do you think they're trying to change history?”

“If they were, they would have done it by now and I don't think we'd be having this discussion. No. I think that they're still just trying to find a short cut.” He spotted Kathryn's wince. “That hit a little home there, Kathryn?”

“You could say I had an epiphany during the Maze of Mines.”

He began to chuckle and then, when the laughter was done said, “So what are the goals now?”

“Oh, we're still going to get home. But, I'd like to be smart about it, if I can be.” She sometimes wondered about that part.

“So you still plan on a major stop then?”

“I was. But I'm hearing something in your voice.”

“If you can hold off for awhile longer, I'd like you to consider patrol instead. Keep heading this way, but watch for any anomalies that remind you of what you spotted in that Nebula. There's a chance that the location wasn't completely random. Put your best minds to figuring out what the signs might be.” He'd been about to say Borg, but had come to the conclusion that changing the term might be more politic.

Counselor Nael had reacted badly when he'd called Seven of Nine “that Borg.” In fact, she'd given him a lecture he was never going to forget. She'd had pointed out that he wouldn't be talking to any of them if Seven of Nine hadn't been aboard. She'd also given him a quick and dirty evaluation of the state of the crew. Which only made him long for the seasoned crew's expertise in the Alpha Quadrant.

Damn, but they could use them.

On the other hand, he was a believer in right place, right time. If Voyager was in the Delta Quadrant there was a bigger reason. He might not know what it was, but his personal belief system had yet to be shaken on that matter.

“How do you want us to handle the pirates, Admiral? Catch, Destroy and Release or Capture and Kill?”

There was a hesitation. He couldn't recall Janeway being that blunt before. But he knew she'd changed in these last couple of months. “Just ... if you can stop them do it. I will trust your judgment on the matter. Keep in mind they're working for the Cardassians now. That does, technically, make them enemy combatants. Do what you must. And, if you think you can use whatever it is they're doing to help you get home, use it.”

“We'll consider it. If it's viable.”

“Fair enough. We'll send you the necessary files.” He tugged on his collar again. “On a different topic, It would help if you're going to be sending any uh... messages of a ... more personal nature, if you could please mark the ones that are... Uhm...”

“Tell you what, we'll give you a sign so you can identify the packets that are for our mates-eyes-only. How about little red hearts with arrows through them.”

“You're all heart. I am moved by your compassion.”

“Well, I suppose I could put the mark of Risa on them if you prefer, but...” Then she turned a bit and spoke to her assistant. “Say, Ensign Anderson, do you have an idea on what we could use?”

“Argh,” the Admiral said. He had forgotten the Ensign was there.

“Well,” said Ensign Anderson, “There's Seven of Nine. She could encrypt the really racy ones so they're unreadable except by your mates.”

“There is that. How about it. Borg encryption for the really important files. Starfleet encryption for the Federation files.”

“You're killing me here, Kathryn.”


	6. Chapter 6

Steve found Sarah in the Mess Hall. It surprised him to see her sitting at the Long Table. But the surprise was modified by the size of the obviously intoxicating drink in her hand. He wondered where she'd procured it and then watched as an ensign stopped by to pour a little more into the woman's drink. The ensign also left a basket of fries, breaded meat-something strips and some other vegetable looking item in front of her.

Sarah gave Steve a slightly buzzed smile and waved him over to sit with her. “Come and see me for awhile, Commander,” she slurred.

“You're looking better.” He opted for diplomatic and then sat down in the seat besides her. He grabbed a random fry and bit into it. It wasn't bad. He grabbed a few more.

She didn't notice. She was drinking in rather healthy gulps.

“Sarah?”

She looked at him. And waved her hand. “I can explain,” she sloshed. “Medicinal. Doctors orders.”

“Pulaski.”

“God Bless her. God Bless Doctor Pulaski!” she lifted her cup and there were hear-hears scattered through the room, probably by people who didn't even know the doctor.

“Yeah, we'll see if you're still saying that in the morning.”

“I lost my ship. I have a right to get drunk at least once.”

“She said so, huh?”

“Yup.” Sarah inhaled a bit and wiped her mouth with her arm. Then, looked at the food in front of her as if surprised. “It actually looks edible.”

Steve waved a few fries and then bit into them. “They are. And, I can't say that I disagree with the good Doctor's professional assessment. You've probably needed a good drunk on for awhile.”

“I don't get drunk.”

“Really.”

“Never have. Nope.”

“If I told you that you were toasted right now, would you believe me?”

“Nope.”

“What does the Doctor have you drinking?”

“Uhm....” Sarah wasn't exactly firing on all her pistons.

“I'll ask you tomorrow.”

“Do that. I'll 'member then.”

“I'm proud of you, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. You did an upstanding job. Any other time you'd have a medal for what you did.”

“I lost my damn ship, Steve.”

“You would have lost it anyway. And this way... this way she went with dignity.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, Captain Tucker, she did. You did good.”

Sarah looked a little watery there for a moment. Then she set her cup down and hitched up her trousers on one side. “Well,” she said after a moment, “Let's hope I do better this next go around.”

Commander Magnum took up Sarah's cup and said, “I'll drink to that.” Then he took a bit of fire of alien rum into his own belly.

“Hey. Get your own!” Sarah waved to the young ensign. “Bartender. Get this man his own drink.”

Yep, he thought later, as they staggered through Voyager's corridors, Sarah was drefinately dunk.

==^==

The captain decided to hold off on creating staff positions until they were positive about the number of people who would be staying on board. She noted that Commander Tucker and Magnum had lost that certain look in their eye and so she worried less about “bad things,” coming from their direction. She did opt to post a notice that this would be a good time for the new additions to the crew to indicate preferences in areas that they would like to serve.

That announcement prompted more anonymous suggestions for positive change on Voyager. She promptly handed those over to Lieutenant Ro, commenting, “It's so nice to have assistants these days.”

Laren had taken on the task with much more grace than she had in the past. She had really started to adapt to her new roles on the ship and found, surprisingly, that she enjoyed them. It was, perhaps, the company that she kept.

It helped that she was feeling much more sanguine with working with Chakotay. The First Officer had officially stopped by the Captain's Family Quarters to apologize to the mates. He'd even brought chocolate and a few other gifts.

Then, being gracious people by nature, the House Presba had offered the chance to share a meal with them, which he readily accepted.

“It's Kathryn's turn to cook. Usually the others do, but she insisted tonight, so it ought to be a treat,” commented Lieutenant Ro blithely.

Chakotay didn't know whether he ought to warn them or run fleeing. But he put on his game face and said, “I look forward to it.”

He spent time in the family area, comfortably talking with individuals as they flowed in and out. Azan and Rebi plopped themselves on the couch opposite of him and asked him frankly about his tattoo. He explained the custom of his people and why it was important to him. Then they really began to quiz him about his people and beliefs. Mezoti drifted by, stopped and sat down in a comfy chair and she also started asking him questions and then offering some opinions.

B'Elanna joined them. She held a wiggly Emina who was currently in an exploratory stage and playing with a cube puzzle. As a Borg, the puzzle was already solved in her head. As a baby, she was still developing the motor skills to go with the knowledge. Plus, there were other ways of discovering things. There was much slobber as she tasted the object as much as she twisted, turned, and played with it - as she listened.

Before he knew it, Chakotay was completely involved in the conversation. Time passed quickly. Soon they were called to dinner.

“Ah, Chakotay!,” Kathryn said as she took him by the arm. “It's good to see you. Come, sit.” She led him to a place at the table.

Tuvok was on duty, so the Vulcan was not present. Everyone else, however, except for Kathryn and Seven of Nine sat down. They were the ones who began delivering the meal.

He watched in awe as plates filled with delectable food was placed in front of individuals. It was a traditional roast beast meal, with gravy, potatoes, vegetables, bread, etc. It smelled wonderful.

He was frankly shocked.

His mouth watered a bit as each entry was delivered. His plate was delivered last.

He was aware of the family's attention on him as he looked down at what he had come to know as Kathryn's cooking. Smoke rose from the blackened, practically melted into plastic, main course. The greenery looked scorched and crisped beyond recognition too. The potatoes were charcoal. The gravy was thin, like soup. The bread, he knew, would be rock hard.

His expression said it all. With great strength of will he looked up and said, “Thank you, Kathryn.” His eyelids twitched, just a little. “It looks lovely.”

He lifted his fork and knife and prepared to cut into the beast.

Kathryn couldn't contain herself. “Oh.... Stop. I know, it's horrible.” She started to laugh. “I really shouldn't have offered to cook tonight, but I was feeling left out. The whole rest of the dinner looked like that too. Then Seven came by and rescued me. I couldn't resist, when I heard you'd be joining us, just to see your face.” Then she grinned, “Which was priceless, by the way.”

The laughter began in earnest around the table then.

“Gotcha, tough guy,” B'Elanna chuckled. “You're lucky Kathryn's got a soft spot where you're concerned. I would have made you eat it. You've been a real PetaQ to deal with lately, you know.”

He managed to look sheepish. “I am aware, B'Elanna.”

Kathryn stood up and removed the plate in front of him and came back with the decent meal. For which he was truly grateful.

Kathryn said, with some actual regret, “I guess I'm just going to have to exclude myself from the cooking list.”

“You have many wonderful attributes Kathryn, but I do believe that would be wise,” commented Seven of Nine serenely as she cut Mezoti's roast beast. “Cooking is not something that you seem to ... come by naturally.” Seven handed the plate back to her daughter. Mezoti flicked a thankful glance at her mother and then began eating.

“So politic, Seven. But unfortunately true. I think Icheb must have gotten those genes.” She smiled warmly at her son, who smiled back at the joke.

B'Elanna commented. “I'm amazed you survived at the academy.”

“Are you kidding? I ate at the mess hall. Or my room-mates cooked. Once I became captain I didn't have to cook at all or I could survive on the rations. Though I have mastered eggs, toast and juice.”

“And peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk,” piped up Azan and Rebi

“And peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk,” agreed their Mom.

“Well, now we know you won't starve to death if we all suddenly disappear.” Laren teased and the conversation devolved into frivolity from there.

By the time he left, Chakotay was back in the family's good graces. After all, if he was willing to try to eat the Captain's cooking he was indeed a good friend and had a sense of humor to boot. As for himself, he found that many of his misconceptions had been shattered and his mind was wrapped around the idea of Kathryn and her family better.

==^==

When the messages to the family were parceled out and read, there was much happiness to be had.

B'Elanna was overjoyed to find that her mother was alive, well, and still loved her. She was overwhelmed to find out how busy her mother and her mates had been. She was also deeply impressed by her In-Laws.

All of the family were amazed to find out that the phenomenon that had affected them had also affected their mates and kin across the galaxy. And they shared the wonder of it.

The kids enjoyed the messages from their mothers and their grandmothers across the galaxy. They also found out one of the side benefits of having family who were currently at a distance. They carted away the stories and Holodeck files for further “research.”

Seven of Nine adored the naughty files. Loved them. And so did the mates. How could they not? (Well, aside from Tuvok, who wouldn't have admitted it. But they still knew he liked them.) The question became, how did Lwaxana get T'Pel to agree to it. But that was a mystery to solve later..

But what Seven really adored was what Lwaxana and T'Pel had done with the files.

She readily agreed to create encryption that would be guaranteed to keep Starfleet busy for months trying to crack them. Since they all knew they would look. Only Starfleet would find a “gotcha” file at the end of that particular quest. Instead, she proposed they follow the example sent by Lwaxana and T'Pel. Their mates had included compressed files in with the racy holographic messages. Those files had been chock full of important family information, as well as messages conveyed only in Presba tongue, which apparently had gone unseen by Starfleet. Like Seven, Lwaxana believed in the power of distraction. And it had apparently proved true.

Seven was fully willing to continue the methodology. But the Captain was very specific that certain kinds of fun should only be between family. They would put the x-rated kinds of files under compression and use innocuous messages as the means to convey them. But they would also be under Borg Encryption, as promised.

The next day there were certain 3-D images of the raunchy variety set up in the Nest. And holographic images of the more tasteful variety set up on a certain Chief Engineer's wall.

==^==

The Ubiyak system boasted a large blue star, five major planets and three smaller ones. The fourth, fifth and six planets were settled by the Ubiyakians. The sixth planet was the one that boasted the star port. It was a large oblong shaped satellite. When approached from a certain angle, it looked like the planet was smoking a cigar.

By the time the arrived in the system, Captain Janeway was convinced that the Klingons were going to go their own way. Captain Veckma had kept his decision a very close secret. She fully expected to see the whole lot of them packed and at the transporter as soon as they docked.

She was so wrong.

What happened instead was that she was approached by Commander Veckma with a request to purchase, not one ship, but several small vessels for the purpose of creating a second squadron.

“But what about captaining your own ship.”

“Did I mention how I came to captain the Gortuk?”

“No. I don't believe we've had that discussion.”

“There are three ways to become a captain in a Klingon fleet. One, you are assigned by the Empire. Two, you take command because of necessity. Three you take command because you have won it by combat because the other captain was a failure. My rise to power was due to necessity. Our original captain was killed by the Orions. He died bravely, but slowly. I was not even the first officer. Our first officer also died bravely, but slowly. As did our second and our third...”

“You're painting a very grim picture for me here.”

“Yes, you begin to see. I was a soldier, captain. True, we Klingons like power. And a captain must be strong. And I was strong for my people, because that was how it needed to be. But I only wanted to fight battles, not be in charge of them.”

“So how long did you contemplate taking over my ship?”

“About a day and a half.”

“What changed your mind.”

“You are a good captain and you have an honorable crew. It would have been a waste.”

“Not of effort.”

“No. But we like your type of Starfleet. If there had been more of this in our time...”

The captain bit back the reply that according to history there had been much more “of this” in their time. Then she reconsidered her assumption. Voyager and her crew really were in unique circumstances. Instead, she nodded. “I see.” Then she looked at her clasped hands and considered. “How many ships for this new squadron and... where are we going to put them?”

==^==

Not long after her conversation with Commander Veckma she was visited by Commander Magnum.

The debonair officer asked her, “Did I ever mention that I was a supply officer in another life?”

“No. I don't believe you've mentioned that.”

“Mr. Neelix and I have had a very interesting conversation about departments on this ship.”

“I feel a request for a new department coming on. Will I regret it?”

“I can make no guarantees Captain. You would have to see my record to determine that. But... I will say that I've always found a way.”

The captain paused before answering. “I will consider it. Commander Magnum, may I suggest you spend time with Mr. Neelix while we're at port and see if this is something you really want to pursue.”

He gave her a flashy grin. “Aye, Captain.”

He started out, then stopped and snapped his fingers. “Oh, I forgot to mention. You were right about us being on a war footing out there. Have you considered Marines?”

“I beg pardon?”

“The thing is, you have the troops, what with the Klingons and the Zakeeri and and at least ten of our ensigns. And true, you're making some of the Klingons flyboys, but not all of them.” Then after her semi-started expression, he gave reassuring look. “Or so I've heard.” He cleared his throat. “Anyhow, you might want to look at Sarah's... I mean Commander Tucker's files, Captain. You'll find them interesting reading.”

“I'm sure I will. Thank you again, Commander.”

He flashed her a rakish grin and she thought, 'Yep, I need to keep him away from Tom and Harry or we're in trouble for sure.' Then he stepped out.

==^==

Just when she was sitting back with a nice cup of coffee and a new file about the Orion Syndicate, she was visited by the Doctor.

“Captain, if you have a moment?”

The captain set the PADD down, turned and indicated a chair.

“Thank you.” He paused. And then the holographic man inhaled. “Captain, ... Kathryn... I was wondering. We currently have enough medical personnel on board to ...”

She raised a hand. “I haven't had a chance yet to chat with Dr. Pulaski or Ensign Hughes. Have you?”

“Dr. Pulaski and I have had many late night conversations, yes. Ensign Hughes not so much.”

“And your perception?”

“She's a very good Doctor, captain. I... admire her greatly.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I'm worried about being replaced.”

“You could never be replaced, Doctor.”

He smiled at her reassurance. “Thank you.”

“There is the problem of names.”

“Ah, yes. Well, as I mentioned, I've been talking with Dr. Pulaski and she made a very practical suggestion.” He fidgeted. “Kathryn, what do you think of the last name Zimmerman.”

She pressed her fingertips together. “That would be your father's name.”

“Yes. Do you think he'd be upset?”

“I believe he'd be honored.”

He smiled more. “I hope so. I would like to ask that you formally change my records to show that my last name is Zimmerman. I'm still working on the first name.”

“I'm sure you will come up with something.” Kathryn smiled. “Dr. Zimmerman, would you be willing to take a commission? I have a feeling issues of rank might be coming up as well.”

“Yes. Captain. I would be interested. I also have a proposal.”

“Go ahead.”

“Should you create a medical department again, I suggest that you have Dr. Pulaski head it.”

“Not you?”

“I'm a great doctor. I am a great pitch hitter when we've got command issues at hand. But ...”

“You just want to practice medicine.”

“Yes. You understand.”

Kathryn considered. “How will this affect the projects that you've been assigned.”

“I believe that it will only help, Kathryn.”

“I'll consider it.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Dismissed, my friend.”

He was smiling broadly as he exited.

==^==

This time the family had to forgo taking shore leave at the same time. There were just too many things that got in the way. The Captain and Lieutenant Ro were having to do a working leave. Tuvok was running security for the ship. The kids were accompanying Sofuru, Ceduril, and Utexic to various sites of interest about the Port, since it was practically a historical artifact. The Port was over three hundred years old and had quite an interesting history and plenty of play spaces.

B'Elanna and Seven found themselves on their own on the station. They decided to go see the sights together, since their shore leave schedule matched. They spotted friends and crew people from the ship during their walk around, sometimes stopped to talk with them, other times just waved.

The station, like many of its type, had stores and shops to visit, restaurants to eat at, diversions to divert one. Of note was the Station Park and since the ship was developing one of its own it had become a popular visiting spot by many of Voyager's crew. There were kilometers of space dedicated to a forested lake that included “wild,” creatures of non-threatening varieties. At the park B'Elanna and Seven spotted several variety of furred and feathered animals. They also found a lovely secluded knoll. That was what came from stepping off the beaten path now and then. Of course, it was hard to get lost on the station. To find the path again all they would have to do is contact the station's computer for directions.

B'Elanna and Seven stopped at the knoll, to sit a moment in the grass and hold one another. It had been a hectic week and they needed the time. Holding one another led to kissing one another. Kissing one another felt wonderful.

Urgency built in the kiss and hands began to rove under clothes. They pressed against each other needfully, hungrily.

It became a game, unspoken, to see how much they could stimulate one another without actually taking the clothes off, without driving their hands lower. Their bodies shifted, until they embraced with their legs as well as their arms.

B'Elanna lay on top, her fingers scraping against the blonde's stiffening nipples. Seven pressed hard against B'Elanna's thigh and deliberately slid along it. The Klingon laughed and slid her lips along the gorgeous neck, nipping and kissing. She whispered spicy Klingon to her Borg, and thrust her own hips down Seven's thigh, rotating her pelvis a bit.

Their kisses deepened and B'Elanna could feel her excitement grow. Her lips drifted to the implant on Seven of Nine's jawline and she began to focus on it, running her tongue sensuously along its line, even as she and the blonde ground against one another. Little red lights began strobing along the implants surface.

Seven of Nine began to moan and B'Elanna knew it was time. She stopped her own deliberate slide and pressed into Seven with her thigh. As the Borg's hips lifted, she grasped them and pushed her, guided her into a grinding rhythm. “That's it. Yes.” She offered Seven the invitation, the call to release. Her words were raw and excited. The more she felt Seven move against her, the more aroused B'Elanna became. Finally B'Elanna could take it no more. She gave the command.

Seven arched into her and B'Elanna caught her cry in a kiss. All she had to do was move and she felt herself topple into pleasure's sure grasp in response.

Later, as they held onto one another and realized that they were going to have grass stains, she joked, “Now this is my kind of shore leave.”

==^==

True to his word Commander Magnum accompanied the good Mr. Neelix on his procurement runs. This included going to the Port's used ship lots when it was announced that the Klingons would be staying on board. There he saw the Talaxian's abilities really kick in.

The fuzzy alien ran rings around the salesman. He started simply, first by looking very hapless, then turning suddenly sharp. He also performed like the bumpkin, banging on a ship's sidewall, only to have a piece fall down at the perfect moment. Then he managed to drive down the price by having their accompanying Klingons growl their disapproval when the price remained too high.

Steve loved watching Neelix work and he knew now why Janeway had come to rely on the perky little alien. He was going to be a fun one to be around. Steve was convinced they would work together well.

By the time Voyager left Ubiyak, they had three Klingon approved new/used battle flyers, one small troop transport ship, several new species of plant garnered specifically for the Park, which Captain Janeway still hadn't seen, and other assorted supplies and personal knick-knacks. It had been a profitable, if not overly extended stay. Everyone, including Voyager, was feeling chipper and ready for the next round.

==^==

Kathryn Janeway felt a great amount of nervousness about the next scheduled meeting. Her consolation was that Ro Laren was in the room with her. The practical Bajoran was working over at the assistant's desk when Dr. Kate Pulaski entered the room.

Dr. Pulaski had a vibrant, formidable energy all her own. She had short blonde hair, blue-eyes and Kathryn personally knew that those freckles went all the way down. Dr. Pulaski was very intelligent, to the point in her dialog with others – sometimes pungently so – and not just merely capable. There were texts that she'd written that were required reading for every medical professional in Starfleet.

Captain Janeway greeted her warmly. She tried not to let it be too warm. But, in another Universe and time, they'd found much in common. She knew she was pretty much unsuccessful in her attempt when the doctor said, as she was sitting down, “Alright, I have to know. Where do you know me from? I have been wracking my brain and can't think of when we've ever met.”

Kathryn felt a bit like she was moving on sandy ground for a second. And she glanced at Laren, who gave her a reassuring look. Then Kathryn returned her attention to the irascible blonde. The captain clasped her hands together and gave Dr. Pulaski a long evaluative look.

And she knew she had to tell the truth. Kate was never good with dishonesty. Never.

“You're going to have to file this information away in that beautiful head of yours and never, I mean it, not ever reveal what I'm about to tell you. You are not to put it in your logs. Not to speak of it to anyone outside of family. Except for Counselor Nael, who is also under an injunction of privacy and security.” The Doctor blinked. Laren stopped pretending like she was reading her PADD. Kathryn felt time stand still for a moment.

Then she began to talk and she told Kate everything, up to the now that they occupied.

The blaze that followed was probably shorter than it could have been. The slap was even quicker. The whoosh of the door as the good doctor stalked out in a rage seemed even faster than that.

“Well. That could have gone better,” Kathryn said weakly. She pressed a hand against the sting on her jaw.

Then she felt Laren's arms wrap around from behind and heard her soft whisper. “And it could have gone worse.” The Bajoran rested her face against the un-slapped part of Kathryn's. “It would be a lot to take in, wouldn't it – to hear of a love that lasted in the end.”

“I grieved for her.”

“I know.”

“I never thought I'd see her again. It just never occurred to me. I mean, she was dead. And when I came back, I just didn’t see how it would be possible.”

“I know.” Laren kissed Kathryn's jaw. “Give her a little time.”

“And she's right to be pissed. I mean, I came back for the ship, for Voyager, but not for her.” The captain winced and then snorted. “You have no idea how long she can hold a grudge Laren.”

“Oh? Really?”

Kathryn grimaced, “Okay, well maybe you do ...” They touched two fingers to two.

Laren chuckled against her ear. “Don't give up hope, Kathryn. Maybe... her destiny has changed. Maybe she'll find someone in this Universe. Maybe Seven won't be happy until there is Nine of us. You just don't know.”

The red-head turned to look at the brunette and chuckled. “Seven won't be happy unless there is nine...” she started to chuckle. “You know, that’s....” She stopped what she was about to say and looked deeply into brown eyes. “I'm luckier than I have any right to be.”

“I feel the same.” They kissed then, affirming the bond.

“I guess I'll have to make appointments with Dr. Zimmerman if I want medical attention.”

“That might be wise.”

Then the captain grimaced. “You know, this wasn't what the meeting was supposed to be about. Damn. Now we're going to have to schedule another one.”

==^==

The next meeting was colder than an ice storm at the North Pole, but they got through it. Captain Janeway offered Dr. Pulaski the job as head of the medical department and was grateful when it was accepted. At least Kate wasn't threatening to go back to Ubiyak. Though, if she had pressed, Kathryn might have let her.

The Doctor did add some stipulations to the deal. The first was that she wanted more trained personnel. She agreed to do the training herself and she wanted to hand pick the people. Kathryn agreed to four persons, but no currently positioned senior staff and Zakeeri crew.

The second stipulation was that Kate didn't want to see or speak to Kathryn outside of professional contact for an undetermined length of time. The captain agreed, but pointed out that they were invariably going to bump into one another. “Just stay out of my way,” demanded the physician. She could not, despite herself, ignore the wound that flared in the captain's eyes. But Janeway apparently could and Pulaski could pretend.

“Of course,” the captain had said evenly.

The third stipulation was that Dr. Zimmerman receive a rank of Lieutenant Commander, effective immediately.

Kathryn Janeway agreed again.

The final stipulation was that Kathryn would “owe” her another demand or pass out of a problem, to be addressed at a later time.

Once again, the Captain agreed.

“You're giving in too easily.”

“We haven't had a genuine medical team in seven years, Ka... Dr. Pulaski. My people need you. I...” she didn't say it. She wouldn't say it. After all, how could it be believed? “I have every confidence in you.”

“Right. Am I excused?”

“Dismissed.” Sometimes it was okay to be captain. Sometimes it really sucked.


	7. Chapter 7

Reading Commander Magnum's file had been a mixed bag. At points she'd actually laughed out loud, at others, she'd groaned or wondered how he managed to stay in Starfleet without being cashiered. Now she was absolutely positive she should not let him near Tom and Harry, but knew at the same time it was going to be inevitable. She was just lucky that Commander Magnum used his powers for good. Mostly. What was that comment line again from one of his previous commanders? It was something along the lines that Commander Magnum was the only person he knew would be receiving a commendation at the same time as his court martial. High, damning praise.

In the end, she decided that an actual supply and procurement department would be useful for the growing crew. They would need to coordinate with maintenance. Neelix would need to be in the department, since he had been their official scrounger and prime negotiator for a long time, but Commander Magnum would be in charge of the actual department. A part of her dreaded what it would mean to have a whole department dedicated solely to procurement. Another part, knew this was exactly the right thing to do and probably would have been done sooner if they'd had the people to spare for it.

Now they did.

When she asked the Commander how many and who would he like to staff his new department he'd had a PADD ready. She found his choices interesting. Two Klingons, one Talaxian, one Zakeeri and two Humans from the scout ship. Neelix had been a given.

“Neelix does not have an official rank. Are you okay with that?”

Commander Magnum waved off her worry. “Of course. He'll be perfect. He can't be court ... I mean, he'll be of great assistance in our more important cases.” And before she could respond to that Freudian slip he went on, “And I'd like to also ask for a buffer set of crew of five, non-official members of the department. Part timers, if you will. Heavy lifters.”

She gave him an inscrutable look. “I'm going to have to say no to the Zakeeri. Unless it's a part time position. All Zakeeri are part of a full team within the squadron. On the other hand, you are aware that this is a mixed crew. You might wish to speak with Lieutenant Ro about resource and floating personnel.” He gave her a toothy and completely un-reassuring smile. “Fine, after you talk to Ro, talk to Chakotay about officially assigning these crew.”

==^==

She gathered Commander Tuvok, Commander Tucker and Commander Sofuru together to discuss the notion of Marines. In the traditional sense, Marines used to be an aquatic force that later evolved into expeditionary strike or ground forces. They now had enough personnel to create a decent strike force, something that was different than an average Away Team or Security mission.

“At this point I'm finding it difficult to imagine how we would use them. We're not exactly world building out here. But my...” she felt silly even saying it, “... my gut says this is the time. And I would hate to fail to use the resources we have. We've got enough Starfleet and Klingons aboard who qualify and I am sure they would rather stomp the ground than fly around. Certainly it would be beneficial to have them around during boarding attacks, that happens often enough. And I'd like to see our efforts more coordinated during those times, anyway. That's part of why we've all been training so hard lately.

“I am bringing in Commander Sofuru into the conversation because he already has training set up for the squadrons and might provide some expertise. Also, the Zakeeri have been working closely with security, who tend to be our first responders and, again, Tuvok has expertise in training. I urge you, Commander Tucker, to take advantage of our resources.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying...”

“Commander Tucker, you are now in charge of Voyager's Marines. Congratulations.”

For once, Sarah Tucker was speechless.

==^==

Commander Steve Magnum wasn't bored yet, which was an unusual sensation for the energetic man. He was still getting to know the ship and its rhythms. There was, surprisingly, not much of an underbelly to be found on Voyager. Oh, there were small things, like the betting pools and the ship's still. But those were open secrets, and he knew the Captain had to be aware of them.

But there wasn't that... usual... underclass. There wasn't the dissatisfied. There wasn't a secret band of miscreants. Oh, there had been. He'd heard the stories. But eventually time or effort had either molded them into real crew or they'd been weeded out by Darwin, battle, or some other deadly circumstance. Not that there weren't pranksters or individuals up for specialized adventures, but they were integrated into the ship's life. Their focus was morale and group survival. Voyager's crew, except for those who were new, were like a well honed weapon – sharp and at the ready. They were also family.

On the other hand, they were a welcoming group. They had their cliques, but their constant contact with other peoples kept them flexible, fluid. Still, it felt weird to be the 'new kid.' He hadn't been the new person on a ship in a long time. He'd been an established first officer for several years now. It was habit for him to find the strengths and weaknesses of a ship and to keep an eye on them or utilize them as necessary.

He had realized before he'd gone in to interview with the captain that first time what he'd been doing. He'd been evaluating the ship and it's crew. And he'd become aware of the supply problem after conversation with Neelix.

And now it was official. He had a place on the ship. It was his duty to make something of it.

He was thinking about that when he made his way to the Mess Hall for dinner. He opted, this time, not to sit at the Long Table, though that was entertaining in and of itself. No, he had plans to make and a department to put in place. He realized, suddenly, he was going to have to ask for an office. Maybe one in the new Cargo Bay. And then there was inventory. Neelix would probably have a head start on that. Then there was setting up protocol...

“Hey, I hear you're the new supply guy.” Commander Magnum looked up to see Lieutenant Paris smiling at him. The other man had a dinner tray in his hands.

“That would be true.”

“Mind if I join you? I have some ... ideas.”

“Ideas?”

“Well, you know, we've been out here seven years. I'm sure all of us have some things that we'd like to see... happen in procurement.”

“Interesting. Sure ... may I call you Tom?” The blonde man nodded. “Have a seat. Tell me your ideas.”

“Great. Mind if I call Harry over?”

“Harry?”

“Yeah, he's my guy.” Tom made a happy sound. “We should have realized earlier, you know, but... it took the anomaly to really bring it out for us.”

“Anomaly?”

“Well you've heard about the Maze of Mines?”

“Only briefly. I'd be glad to hear more.”

Tom smiled in acknowledgment, then wave waved his man over. “Harry, Laren was right. We've got a real supply officer.”

“That is good news. Congratulations.”

“I'm not sure congratulations are in order yet. I was just realizing what I had taken on. Take a seat. Tom was about to tell me some of his ideas.”

“Well, you have to be careful with Tom. Some of his ideas lead to ... interesting places.”

“Then it's a good thing I like interesting.”

==^==

Commander Tucker entered the newly minted department. The area was completely dark. “Lights on full.” It was also nearly completely empty. It was a fairly large space, nearly the whole of one of the empty decks. The captain hadn't stinted. Though she had warned that if space became an issue they might have to renegotiate.

Sarah wandered the area, pondering how best to start. She realized she had a real challenge ahead. She had a team assigned to her already, though she could put out for volunteers. The team would be a mixed crew, including trained Klingon Marines. There might be some similarities, but Sarah didn't doubt there would be differences too. She knew she would have to train them, break them of any bad habits, instill the good ones. She would have to use everything in her arsenal.

It would be a real challenge.

Now that she'd had a little time to think on it, she realized she wanted this job. And more, she wanted to succeed at it. She had heard the doubt in Janeway's ... no... that wasn't right. She was going to have to stop that. Captain Janeway had never had Marines on her ship. So she just didn't know how to use them yet. But Sarah... Sarah came from a long line of Marines and knew what Marines could do. She would make them indispensable and Jane... Captain Janeway would be glad she'd made the right choice in Sarah Tucker.

==^==

The Estate of House Qua'lon was impressive. The manor was modern and large, with statuary and a palatial yard. The entry way had statues of Kahless and one of the major Klingon Heroes in a traditional dual guard set up. It was designed so it would seem as if Kahless the Great were looking down on the person supplicating for entrance and meant to intimidate.

Vulcans do not do intimidation, so there was no response in Asil beyond noting that it would be a logical location for a security device. Malvok had taken to following Asil's impassive example. Not that he wasn't a passionate man, but he'd had ample opportunity to watch Asil and come to respect her approach. Thus, he too made no obvious display of awe.

They were both dressed in the family armor, with the Crest of Presba displayed on one shoulder. Malvok's was perhaps a bit more ornate, since his was more Klingon in style. But they both wore weapons of varying degrees of sharpness and complete lethality.

They announced themselves to the house A.I. and waited. After fifteen minutes, Asil extracted a PADD from a pocket in her uniform and then connected it to the bell-panel of the house. With it, she accessed the House Qua'lon's computer and left a short message about when and where the Honorable Judge Miral Torres of the House Presba would be willing to see them. In that message was included certain documents proving rank and citing case numbers.

The members of the House would not be able to deny receiving the message because Asil recorded the time and location of delivery, as well as set the message to audio over the House intercom, replay and loop continuously over any other content that might be displaying at the moment. It would only end if someone confirmed receipt with the Bradbury.

With the message delivered, she tapped her comm badge and she and Malvok were whisked away via transporter.

==^==

Like a Baronial estate often had, there was a town associated with the House. Miral Torres claimed the small town hall as the place of judgment. The townspeople responded a bit differently than the House Proper, though they could have been hostile. Oddly, they were surprisingly cooperative, but then Miral Torres made reasonable requests.

All Miral asked for was room enough to judge or engage in combat. All Klingon city halls were designed to meet that need. She also gained permission for the federation crew to visit the small town for a little leave, which increased the coin in the town treasury. To avoid a conflict of interest, however, she and her family stayed either on board the ship or worked at the town hall.

Asil and Malvok spent time in the combat arena, practicing and getting to know it's parameters. It might be their only advantage if it came to it.

==^==

Miral Torres had been practicing her new calling by wearing her robes during “work,” hours. She was still incredibly uncomfortable with the power that had been handed to her. But she intended to honor its obligations.

She had set aside a daily allotment of time for the investigation during which she and her family had worked on the case. And what a case it revealed itself to be. As indicated, Tulek had ducked out of a myriad of obligations of honor, had gambling debts of frightening proportions, and had unusual business practices. On the plus side, some of the business issues appeared to have settled to something of a more honorable nature once House Qua'lon received Ab'Liev. The problem was that there were still some shady deals occurring and each deal shaded darker than the last. There were, from T'Pel's reports, some indication that he had contact with the Orion Syndicate. How deep that contact extended was not apparent. But it was obviously enough to get the Empire interested in his dealings.

At first she wondered why she had been given this task and some other agent of the Empire wasn't handling the issue. Then she realized that things must be getting very ugly with the Dominion War. It meant, she was the only one.

She hated that she had brought her family into danger, but now honor and the empire demanded that she see it through.

The House Qua'lon resisted for almost two and a half days. Fortunately for them they had three. It wasn't even Tulek who contacted the Bradbury, but one who claimed to be of his relatives – a young woman. She was speaking in whispers.

The communication had been transferred to the office at the town hall. Miral Torres looked sternly at the girl, never revealing her consternation. She knew that the loop of information Asil had installed would cease as soon as the young woman's transmission was over. She also knew that this child of House Qua’lon might face a terrible retribution for her action. On the other hand, it could be that Tulek himself had set up the situation.

She asked, “Who decided to make this contact. Be truthful.”

Naturally the girl claimed that she had arrived at the decision on her own. What else was she going to say?

“I will see your uncle at the appointed time and place. He may bring counsel and two witnesses. No more.”

“Yes, your Honor.”

The young woman was going to have to deal with the consequences, either way.

==^==

In the Delta Quadrant, just inside a red star system, Voyager continued on it's journey. They had already by-passed a likely M-class planet, one that wasn't too far from Ubiyak. But they were on patrol.

There had been no sign of the Orion Syndicate.

It had been a week since Kate Pulaski made her demands and she had arrived at some interesting choices. One of the candidates entered the Ready Room and stood at attention. His words at entry, however was not that formal. “Mom, Marnah. Do you have a moment?” Icheb probably could have used the comm badge to speak with them, but he wanted to see their reaction personally.

The two women had looked at each other, and then both stood up and made their way to the more informal part of the room. Kathryn reached Icheb first and put her hand gently on his back, to guide him. “Why don't you come sit down with us son and tell us what is on your mind.”

Icheb nodded and they sat down.

Icheb sat on the edge of his chair, facing them. He clasped his hands together and placed them in his lap. He decided just to say it. “I was recently approached by Dr. Pulaski to be a member of the medical team. She offered training and an immediate rank as ensign in Starfleet. I wanted to come talk to you first before I accepted the offer, since her body language indicated that there might be some conflict of interest.”

There was a bit of silence, but not too long. Laren asked, “Do you want to train for medical skills?”

He turned his attention to his Marnah. “I thought at first I would be more interested in Engineering. I am Borg, and have many abilities preprogrammed. I also find that other pursuits can be boring. Engineering is often challenging and interesting. But so is the medical practice. They are similar in nature. My thought was to do perhaps do a bit of both. As I grow older I will not require as much time regenerating and yet I will have long periods of activity, like Mother. It would be good to have both skill sets firmly within my grasp.”

“As well as the rank,” Kathryn said with some amusement.

Icheb nodded serenely, “That is true. I believe, however, that I would bring honor to the commitment.”

Kathryn reached and patted her son's hands. “I know you would.” She looked at Laren and felt wonderfully pleased that Icheb had come to talk to them as parents rather than as Starfleet. “Have you talked with your other parents?”

“Yes. Father believes it to be a logical choice. Mother supports it. SoS would be sad to see me leave Engineering and said she might borrow me from time to time, but she also has expressed confidence in me.”

“Icheb, you have my blessing,” Laren said.

Kathryn closed her eyes and then opened them with clarity of thought. “And mine.” Then her lips quirked in humor. “Besides, I've always wanted to say that I had a son who was a doctor.”

==^==

Like Commander Magnum's selection, Dr. Pulaski's choices were exotic. There was, of course, Icheb and Dr. Zimmerman, and Ensign Hughes. But she had also chosen one of the Klingons, Dr. Dezhe, who happened to be the medical officer aboard the IKS Gortuk. She had also been the one of the wounded and Kathryn shuddered to realize how close they had come to losing two Doctors that day. The final candidate was Bajoran, Crewman Bev Natal whom Dr. Pulaski felt had promise. Captain Janeway approved them all as part of that department and approved the curriculum that Dr. Pulaski set for the trainees.

Icheb was going to be a very busy young man for awhile.

==^==

Shockingly, Tulek showed up at the courtroom and he followed the direction to only bring a counselor and two witnesses. The odd thing was that the counselor and the witnesses were not Klingon.

Not that they had to be, but it was just odd.

The counselor appeared to be human, but there was just something off with his coloring. He was taller than Miral, but not as tall as Asil. His skin was walnut dark, and his eyes brown. One witness was of similar coloring, though female. The other witness was rarely seen within Klingon territory. It was a Brecon and as soon as she saw it, Miral had a bad feeling. Brecons were golden skinned, very tall and had four arms. They normally worked with the Federation and were amiable enough. But this particular Brecon looked as if he liked to chew other people's arms off for breakfast.

She grimaced and made the decision not to be intimidated by the PetaQ. They were the ones who had to stand until she told them to sit. Tulek was the one on trial.

There was a small audience, of course. And then, there was Gretchen, who was acting in a secretarial capacity, to her right. And T'Pel and Lwaxana, both in their ambassadorial robes, to act as witnesses on her left. Asil and Malvok were standing just to the front, staring forward towards the accused. Asil had chosen to use the traditional Vulcan Sword and Shield. Malvok had his Bat’leth cradled in his arm.

Miral raised the Gavel and slammed it down onto the table. “Be seated.”

==^==

The charges were read and then it was time for Tulek to offer what he wanted to say. Tulek was, from a Klingon perspective, a handsome man. He had strong, wavy ridges on his forehead and a muscular physique. He had a deep, rumbling kind of voice. “I refute all charges and have asked my counsel to provide evidence.”

The counselor was reaching into his case. And, without looking to her left Miral knew that Lwaxana was already standing and shouting a warning. Asil had started forward, raising sword and shield. Malvok was pulling out his pistol.

There was sound and light. Asil was thrown back against the judicial desk. She lay completely still. Malvok got off one shot and was hit by two blaster bolts. He was dead when he hit the ground

The alien spoke haughtily. “Don't make us shoot you too your Honor. We need hostages.” Miral glanced around the room, noting that all of the audience members appeared to be dead or dying. She looked to her right and saw that Gretchen was standing, but not moving. She looked to her left and saw Lwaxana and T'Pel also standing. There was an unusual look on T'Pel's face and Miral recognized it as fury.

Miral turned to the 'counselor,' and growled, “You will pay.”

“No, Your Honor. But someone will. They'll pay cold hard Latinum for you four. You're all gorgeous.” He waved them down.

Tulek interrupted. “Wait a minute. Kill them!” He pointed Miral in particular and was just getting started on his reasoning when he was hit by four bolts of blaster fire.

The alien counselor looked at the Brecon. “Reallly, Fedal. Four shots were unnecessary.”

“He talked too much.”

“True.” The counselor pressed a button on his belt and his features began to shimmer. Suddenly his skin and hair turned a pale green. “Ladies, if you'll come this way please.” He waved them forward with his pistol.

Then when they were in position, a transporter beam carried them all away.

==^==

They were taken from the transporter room to the medical bay almost immediately. There they saw items that looked like they would probably be terribly painful if utilized. On the other hand, the tools weren't used on them. The only thing the medical person used was a tricorder. And then, all he'd said was, “Hmm. Interesting.”

Then he walked away.

Oddly, the women weren't fearful. Shocked maybe. They certainly knew they were in trouble, but they were not afraid. This was perhaps because they had Lwaxana with them, who, despite the usual ethical protocols, had immediately opened up a telepathic pathway between them. Survival required flexibility in thinking.

T'Pel offered an analysis of crew strength, just based on the number and the size of the medical bay. 'Fifteen at most.' This was confirmed by Lwaxana who did a quick and dirty “head” count. She also let them know what dire thing they planned on doing next.

'They're going to try and implant a locater beacon in us. Also, some sort of pain inducer. And then...' They all saw the pictures in their heads. It wasn't pleasant.

'They haven't bound us.'

'We haven't resisted yet.'

'We will.'

'Yes.'

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a new person, stepping into the medical bay. “Captain says we're under way. They're going to try the unit. You might want to buckle up.”

The doctor grunted an acknowledgment.

Lwaxana reported. 'He has no plans to “buckle up.” He is going to have an injector in his hands in a few seconds. But he expects some sort of jostle.'

'I will take care of the guard.' Miral added to the conversation. She didn't care if it had four arms. It was going to die today.

'I'll take care of the doctor,' added Gretchen. 'What? I was an admiral's wife. I know a few things. Besides, have you noticed that you've been feeling like you're always holding back?' There was a pause and then an acknowledgment. Gretchen continued. 'Then ladies, I suggest we see what we can actually do.'

They waited for their moment.

==^==

Their moment came when the floor seemed to buckle under their feet. Miral made her leap, faster than even she expected. Gretchen was making her own move, and broke the good Doctor's hand before shoving the appliance through his eye. She just wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten to where he was standing. She wasn't even sure where that growl had come from, except that she knew it was her making it.

The Universe was fluxing around them as the dead man toppled. She didn't stop. She turned and saw that T'Pel had one of the Brecon's arms in her hands. The arm was no longer attached to the Brecon. The Brecon was on the ground with its head askew. Miral now had two pistols in her hands. Lwaxana had closed her eyes and her hands were outstretched. There were howls of pain emanating through the walls, which had turned invisible enough to see through. The howls seemed to become part of the walls themselves.

Gretchen, who was still feeling very feral, ground out, “Remind me not to piss you off.” Miral tossed Gretchen and T'Pel a pistol. T'Pel stayed by Lwaxana, but Miral and Gretchen headed out the door.

There were wild noises and then sounds of blaster shots being fired, then Miral poked her head back in. “Come ladies. You don't want to get stuck in here.”

T'Pel guided Lwaxana out, two fingers to two fingers. Lwaxana kept her eyes closed and focused. They made their way out to the corridor and more sounds of despair rose from elsewhere in the ship. As the ladies found them, they shot them.

It wasn't about vengeance, thought it could have seemed that way. It might have been about honor, but that thought wasn't highest in their mind. It was strictly about survival. The things these beings intended were not good and not to be trifled with.

Besides, there were other problems to consider. They made it to the Bridge and spotted the captain who had played counselor. Technically, if it had been vengeance, they would have kept him alive to pay for his crime later. But as it wasn't, he was the first one they targeted with a blaster. By the time they were done, every single Orion Syndicate member on that ship was dead.

Their next problem was getting control of the vessel.

None of them really had training in flying a starship. T'Pel had some skill with flying a shuttle. Gretchen had some skill with mathematical plotting. It was the closest they were going to get.

T'Pel sat at the navigation console and began evaluating it. There were familiar and unfamiliar items on the console. She observed one particular set of numbers rapidly sliding by on screen. “It is on an automatic heading. I am unable to stop it. But it does look like it has a count down.”

“How many minutes.”

“Seconds.”

“How many....”

There was that buckling again and then it felt like the Universe fell apart and put itself back together again. T'Pel and Lwaxana screamed from the shock of a Universe's worth of separation and collapsed.

==^==

B'Elanna Torres did not want to open her eyes. She never wanted to open her eyes again. She knew if she did, she would be opening them to a Universe gone wrong. Inside she felt raw, strange and pained. Inside, she still felt them. Where they should be. There was an echo and a hollowness, as if a part of them must still exist, but ... not here. It was... too far... to even guess where they might be. Always there had been a sense of...direction. Now? When she “touched,” that space it was like a compass arrow flipping around and around seeking to find its north. The sensation even made her a dizzy. The pain of it made her ill.

Where were they? What had happened?

She felt, rather than saw, the light being flashed above her eyes. “Get that damn thing away,” she croaked. Her throat hurt. She couldn't think of why.

She felt a response, familiar, along her mated bonded and nearly sobbed with relief. Seven was awake. Aching, but there. B'Elanna willed her eyes open.

The view was all much too mundane to feel as horrible as it did.

She looked to her left and saw Laren in the bio-bed next to her. She gasped, tried to sit up and felt strong hands push her back. “Stay down, Lieutenant Torres.”

B'Elanna winced, unprepared for the sympathetic tone in Dr. Pulaski's voice. Though, perhaps she shouldn't have been.

“Can you tell us what happened.”

“I... don't know. Our mates, in the other quadrant... they're not there. And, it hurts.” A wracking sob shook through the half-Klingon. “I need...” Her hand stretched out towards Laren. “We need each other. Get us closer. All of us.”

She didn't expect to be believed, but was relieved when she felt the bio-bed begin to move. There was a sound, as it connected with the other bed to form a larger whole. Laren, didn't open her eyes, but rolled and was suddenly in B'Elanna's arms, weeping. “ Connect them all,” ordered the Epatai, trying to be strong. “And check us over. If we're not dying send us to the Nest.”

“The what?”

“Voyager knows.”

B'Elanna closed her eyes then, and didn't say anything more.

==^==

It was not the introduction Voyager would have wished. She was still getting to know the good Doctor, but since it was brought up, she took it on faith. “Voyager of the House Presba to Dr. Kate Pulaski.”

Hesitantly, the doctor touched her comm badge and wondered silently why she was the one who always ended up dealing with sentient A.I. “Pulaski here.”

“Doctor, when you're ready, give the command and I'll take it from there. Are there any specific care instructions you wish me to oversee?”

Dr. Pulaski looked at her patients, all five of them. “Rest, food, drink. Sedatives, if they need it.” She was going to make an assumption, “Keep track of basic biological signs. Let me know if anything more serious happens. I don't like what I'm seeing right now. But...”

“I will, Doctor.” there was a pause. “Call on me if you need me. I can also be of service during medical emergencies.”

“That's good to know. I'd like to talk more with you at some point. Soon. I have some questions.”

“Of course, Doctor. I will make myself available. After I have the adults settled and my children's care seen to.”

==^==

There was no indication of recognition that they had been moved, other than that they moved closer together – huddled together. They might have slept, but indications were that they were conscious. Voyager crooned to them. The ceiling and walls of the Nest opened to allow Waldos to slide through. She shuffled pillows around them for their comfort. She'd removed their clothing during transport, seeing it as a barrier. The mates needed nothing between them at the moment. She reset the temperature of the Nest to something warmer.

In the other part of the family quarters, she let the children know that there was something unknown that had hurt the adults. That it might be a while before they saw them. She didn't know how long. They made arrangements for care.

==^==

The next day there was an emergency transmission from Starfleet.

Kathryn Janeway didn't even know how she managed to get dressed, let alone to the Ready Room. After a moment she realized Voyager must have dressed her and “walked,” her down the corridors. She remembered the shocked look of the crew she'd passed. So she knew she looked terrible. But she knew the crew needed to see her, even if she looked like she'd been punched one too many times.

Asil didn't look much better. Despite the neutrality of her expression, she managed to gaze back at Kathryn as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her arm was in a sling and her eyes looked bruised.

“It was the Orion Syndicate.” That brought out a frightening snarl in Kathryn. Asil went straight to the point. “They kidnapped them. Their transportation was non-standard. They never went to warp. There was an energy signature.” Asil gave a universal variance, a percentage of shift. It was a number that was recognizable to the Starfleet officers and not many outsiders.

“You're telling me that they're in another Universe.”

Admiral Paris popped into view from another channel. “ You know which one, Kathryn. We are beginning to get the idea that they Universe hop as their shortcut.”

Right at that moment, Katherine didn't care about the mechanics. “Paris, you are blocking my view of my daughter.”

The Admiral blinked. “I ... uh...”

Kathryn drew in a shaky breath and tried to remember that she was Starfleet for a moment. “I apologize Admiral. My mates and I are in a very shaky state right now. I want to rip someone's throat out and I'm very close to not caring whose.” She closed her eyes, drew in breath.

They had known. They had known that their mates weren't in the Universe. Now they knew where. And they knew why. She tried again, tried to be civil.

“What we really need is information, I suppose. Please, send me everything you have, Admiral. I mean everything. And we'll stop them. We will stop the Orion Syndicate from mucking about with people's lives like this. They'll wish they'd never been born.”

“Kathryn, don't do anything hasty.”

“Admiral,” She restrained the quick and mean answer, fought it back. “It won't be hasty, but if I can manage it, it might be total. You have to tell me now. Did you mean it when you said it was up to me? You said the Orion Syndicate were enemy combatants. More, if they took my mates and my mother and mother in law on purpose, they have declared war on House Presba, a Klingon House. That will have... consequences. So, tell me Admiral...”

“Kathryn...”

“Give the order, one way or the other, Admiral. Now, while I can make the choice to obey it somewhat rationally. What are my orders, Admiral Paris?”

He paused and looked grim. “I meant what I said. Seek, find and capture and/or destroy, Kathryn. Try to capture the leaders alive, but if not, make sure they can't hurt anyone else. It's not just your lives or your parents. They're messing with the balance of power here. It's trillions of lives, Kathryn, if they succeed. The Federation... we've got real problems here. The infiltration of the Dominion really shook things and it's not gotten much better. The war is taking its toll, though we're keeping it out of the news as much as possible. And then there's...” He couldn't say it over the broadcast, “There are always certain parties that have their own interests and it's not helping. Now that the Cardassians are controlling the Orion Syndicate, they have to be stopped. If you can do it, then stop them as cold as it gets.”

“You're telling me war. If I go in, it'll be tooth and claw, Admiral. I am not in a merciful state of mind here. Be very sure.”

He looked to the side, and Kathryn realized for the first time that he wasn't the only one seeing this transmission. Then he looked at her. “We're sure.” It had to be Admiral Nechayev then. She just knew by the way he said it. It was someone he trusted and someone high enough to share the order’s consequences.

Kathryn shivered. “That.... is what I needed to know, Admiral. Now there is one more thing. Do your orders for patrol stand? If not, then there are preparations that we need to make. Because if I find them, I want the Syndicate to know they were spanked hard and remember it a long, long time, and my ship has to be ready.”

“Do what you need to do. I'd prefer that you continued on. I think you'll have more of a chance of contact that way. But space is big. It was only a chance. We'll send you what information we have. I am sorry, Kathryn, for your loss.”

She visibly shuddered then managed a distant graciousness. “Thank you. You have been a good friend and I'm sorry for...

“No need to apologize.”

Kathryn nodded. “Now. Could you please let me talk more with my daughter?” There was open, wounded need in her voice.

The Admiral nodded. “Of course.”

When Asil was back on the screen Kathryn said, “Asil you did good. If we are able, we will find your mothers and bring them back to this Universe. ”

Asil looked pained.

Kathryn sighed, then she said, “Look, stay on the line a moment. I'm going to bring your other parents in. They need to see you themselves.”

“Then I will bring in Deanna, Barin, and Phoebe. They will draw comfort from seeing you too.” That was as near as Asil would come to admitting she had any emotions about this loss.


	8. Chapter 8

It was awhile before Lwaxana and T'Pel really came back to them. There were moments in the beginning where they thought they were going to lose their daughter-in-laws permanently. Gretchen had never been so grateful to see the obsidian eyes of a Betazoid.

There was a depth to them that hadn't been there before, but Gretchen didn't comment on it. Instead she gripped the hand of her daughter-in-law and held it tight. “The item that brought us here burned out. But we'll find a way.”  
Lwaxana's already gaunt expression flexed.

Gretchen glanced at T'Pel, whose eyes remained closed and expression was not exactly composed, but no longer in that long grimace of pain any more. She was being held firmly by Lwaxana.

It had taken them a half a day to figure out that Lwaxana and T'Pel needed proximity. They had put them in some quarters, after stripping out anything that might remind them of where they were. After that it was a matter of checking in on them, bringing food and drink. Sometimes the food was still there. Sometimes it wasn't. That was what gave them hope.

Gretchen continued. “We have news. We were contacted by a Klingon Bird of Prey. I... I need you to look into me and see, Lwaxana.”

The Betazoid groaned and closed her eyes.

Then they flew open with a startled curse.

“They have not touched you?” She knew they hadn't, but needed it confirmed anyway. This time she took in what her mother-in-law was wearing. Her eyes skimmed over the other woman and then narrowed.

“No, they haven't.” Gretchen blushed, but not about Lwaxana's frank assessment. Gretchen knew that she was wearing something provocative. It was appropriate to her apparent station. “Miral has been very protective. We.. uh... She's... my mate.”

Lwaxana raised her hand and cupped Gretchen's face gently. She didn't smile. “Show me?”

==^==

After locating quarters for Lwaxana and T'Pel and getting them settled, Miral and Gretchen had taken on the dirty job of gathering up the bodies. At first, they thought about making some sort of effort at a funeral. After all, even Orion Syndicate mothers must love their kids. But the truth was, it just wasn't in them. They stripped the villains of important things, like the captain's thumb or other units that might help them get the ship's system started. (Gretchen was convinced that she could probably reset the system to recognize them as the owners because mathematicians use computers and sometimes took the long way around. But it would work. T'Pel would have done it quicker, but she was not available.)

They spaced the Orion Syndicate people with nary a tear. Then they picked quarters to stay in. Miral chose the captain's in a fit of Klingon logic. “I killed for it. It's mine.”

Gretchen didn't feel like arguing. She just did what she knew how to do. Cleaned it out and put on some new sheets.

She'd intended to stay in the domicile next door, the one between T'Pel and Lwaxana's and Miral's. But they'd had a pretty long day by then. Even with all that excess energy she usually carried around, she found her eyelids drooping while they were eating. She didn't remember how she got into the bed or even how it came to be that she was undressed.

But that was how she woke up.

Miral had slept on the couch.

Unacceptable. Although, looking back Gretchen probably should have been grateful. Instead she got a bit of a tirade going. Which had been stopped cold by Miral's reasonable question. “Are you saying you want to sleep with me?”

Well there were several ways that question could be answered, couldn't it? And it all stymied the shorter red-head, because the short answer was yes.

Miral chose then to remind the red-head that she was Klingon and Gretchen, with her fuse lit, had forgotten she was naked. She'd been yanked forward into strong arms. “Be very sure this is what you want,” the Klingon had growled. Then she'd kissed Gretchen silly and let her go. “I will not be sleeping in any way with you unless it means something.”

Miral left the room.

It had taken Gretchen a little time to gather herself together. But she did. She replicated an outfit fit for doing things. And had taken time to clean Miral's robes. She took those up with her to the Bridge, thinking Miral might need them for some reason. Or maybe she'd want to burn them. Either way it was an inexplicable decision.

They started at the Bridge. Gretchen was able to use the Captain's thumb to start the process and by the middle of the day, the ship was singing to their tune. Mostly.

They ended up in the engine room, because a control panel said there was a problem and the computer was finally being helpful. Now they had access to the PADDs and tricorders and all the other equipment of the ship. Which meant, if they were creative and followed directions, they could possibly get somewhere.

They'd found the unit or rather what was left of it. The boxy appliance was melted on one side, and there was a burn mark on the wall beyond it. It had apparently blown up with the last use.

“Well, 'Captain,'” Gretchen had teased and grumped, “What do we do now?”

Miral had given her a sharp glance. “We do what we must. First we figure out where we are. Then we decide where to go next.”

Gretchen, who liked to think she did have a brain, nodded. “I know. I really do...I just...”

She felt a warm hand grasp her shoulder. “Gretchen.” The smaller woman looked up and Miral continued. “I trust your strength and your intelligence. You would have said the same thing.”

“Yes. But I'd still rather be baking cookies.”

“I like your cookies.”

Gretchen's vision blurred and she fought back the tears. “I want to go home.”

Miral, who was no less upset at their dilemma brought her into a hug. Gretchen didn't even ponder how the Klingon knew, she just returned the embrace. She felt pressure on her brow from a kiss. Miral said, “We will find a way.”

==^==

There was plenty of data available about their location and it was not good news. Miral and Gretchen learned that they were in a completely different Universe, where humans were slaves and Klingons were masters. The politics of the Universe were complex. The history even more so. But they took the time to read through as much as they could.

“It's so different,” Gretchen had exclaimed.

“It's hardly different at all,” Miral had corrected. “Klingons are still Klingon. Their ways are familiar to me. It's more like... we've gone back a hundred years.”

Gretchen's lips twitched. “So you're saying they're traditionalists.” She looked back at the view screen they were utilizing. “But the human history... it's so far beyond what I know... I would never...”

“Yesterday.”

Gretchen winced. “That was different.”

“Yes. It was. You were defending yourself. But imagine now, your ancestors. When I lived on earth I read your human history. It was not all flowers and sunshine, my Gretchen.”

Gretchen was caught off guard by the use of her name as a possessive. She refocused. “We're going to have to plan and decide whether to try for civilization or make it on our own.”

“Do you know how to mine and process dilithium?”

“No.” Gretchen answered weakly.

“Neither do I.”

“Do you want to settle on a primitive planet with only this ship as our resource?”

“No.” Gretchen narrowed her gaze and knew where Miral was headed with this. Then her lips quirked into an ironic smile. “You are mighty logical for a Klingon.”

Miral growled lightly at Gretchen. “It's one of the things you appreciate about me.”

The red-head closed her eyes. She'd felt that growl go right through her. “Miral...”

“Gretchen. We do not have time to waste.” Miral took her hand. “If it were up to me, I'd do it right. I'd take you to the Opera House on Qo'nos. I'd treat you to dinner in New York. I would spend my days and nights reading poetry to you. I would take you to Risa for our honeymoon.” She shook Gretchen's hand for emphasis. “But that would be in a different Universe. Here...”

“Here I am Human.”

Miral's gaze was concerned. “You are more than Human, Gretchen. You are chosen of Kahless. But the people here, they do not know this.” She leaned in. “I want to protect you, Gretchen. Everything in me calls to you. Haven't you noticed?”

Gretchen could not afford to go into denial. She whispered, “Yes. Yes, I noticed.”

“We must decide how we want to do this. And, it requires a quick decision, because who knows who will contact us first. You now know the concepts and what we face. Do we want to be mates, working together? Or do you...”

“Mates.”

“Gretchen.”'

“Mates.”

Miral could see the stubbornness winding its way into the other woman's eyes. It was one of the things she loved about her. “Are you sure you are not Klingon?”

“I'm of the House Presba. Technically that makes me...”

Miral pulled Gretchen close and kissed her, at first softly. Gretchen moaned and drifted deeper into the loving touch. “Mine,” finished Miral.

“Yes.”

“Do you know the Klingon Oath of Marriage, Gretchen?”

“You'll have to teach me.”

==^==

Gretchen was pleased by the simplicity of the words, and a little scared of the bite to come. But she trusted Miral. That was the point. She trusted this Klingon woman with her life.

“jIH dok!” Gretchen shook a little in Miral's grasp.

But her voice was completely calm, firm with choice. “Maj dok!”

Miral drew her closer and Gretchen turned her cheek. She felt the warmth of the Klingon's body and breath. Then there was softness, a kiss. It surprised her enough that she almost missed the pain. She cried out, but otherwise responded by gripping the taller woman's shoulders. She felt the brush of Miral's tongue against her cheek and shuddered.

Then she turned and faced Miral, who presented the side of her face. Gretchen kissed the woman's cheek, then bit as firmly as she could. She felt blood rush into her mouth, warm and oddly sweet-salty. Something inexplicable happened, something she could not describe, but knew. Miral was hers. Always. Forever.

They kissed then, forgetting that they had intended to continue their research after the oath. But the bond was forged and the sudden need came first. It was as if the Universe knew how quick they needed to be and smoothed the way for them.

==^==

Need.

It had not been what Gretchen expected. Miral's touch had been strong, straightforward, and demanding, but never cruel. Wherever her hands moved it was fire. Wherever kissed, desire blossomed.

The Klingon guided Gretchen, opened herself to the Human, taught her the great secrets. And Gretchen delighted.

It was as if their touch and taste was made for each other, it was so profound.

They moved with each other, against each other, for each other. Pattern and breaking patterns, kissing and knowing. Filling. Oh, the filling and ever the need that spiraled higher until the fire melted their wings and made them sing out each other's names during the fall.

==^==

They “lost,” hours in one another, but knew it for necessity. Survival was the only thing forcing them to part. They needed to check on Lwaxana and T'Pel. The need to plan remained and it had to be a good one, just in case they were in this Universe for longer than a few days. They missed the input of their daughter-in-laws, but planned for them, based on what they now knew. T'Pel would need to play servant to Lwaxana's Truth Seeker. Truth Seekers were feared through out the Quadrants. For good reason.

It would be a difficult role for Lwaxana. Truth Seekers were not known for their kindness and Lwaxana was very kind. But she was also strong. And together with T'Pel they would make an intimidating team, one unlikely to be challenged.

They made costumes. Uniforms actually, for the roles they would play. Miral taught Gretchen traditional mannerisms. They would have to hope that, should T'Pel and Lwaxana come out of that which held them so painfully, there would be time to “train” T'Pel.

==^==

They'd finally got the ship moving and pointed towards a logical point in the Beta Quadrant on the fourth day. About six hours later, an several light years forward, a Klingon Imperial Cruiser de-cloaked in front of them.

Their ship, the newly named Klingon Justice, was boarded by five people; the first mate of the Cruiser and four guards. Despite waving around weaponry, he was greeted by an amused, patient Klingon Captain and her mate. The amused part lasted until one of the guards made eyes at the Human

“You had better look away while you are still able,” Miral had snapped at the Klingon. “She is mine.”

“Sell her. I will pay...”

A dagger appeared in his throat, startling the other guards into stepping away from him and taking their attention away from Miral and Gretchen. Miral moved away from her chair, put Gretchen behind her and now had a blaster in her hand at the ready. “This is my ship. You will show respect.”

The First Mate had turned then, raising his own blaster, only to do a double take. He had glanced down at the seat besides the captain's chair. He cleared his throat. “Are those... are those your robes?”

“You can call me Your Honor.” Then she smiled. “I know you did a scan of the ship. Perhaps you noticed a Betazoid presence and her Vulcan?”

The Klingons paled.

Miral waved her hand dismissively. “Oh calm down. She's asleep. We'll keep this between us.”

“Uh...”

“Look,” the captain who happened to be a judge went on, “I had business to attend to when my crew ... fell ill. Had to space the lot of them.”

Now the Klingons looked a bit queasy. Miral growled. “Don't be stupid. This isn't a plague ship. Or I would have warned you.”

“Of course, your Honor.”

“Now. You have a couple of choices. You can keep waving those weapons around and piss me off. Or... you can join me for dinner and you can catch me up on news of the Empire. What is it going to be?”

It could have gone either way, but something in the way she looked at them made him think. He adjusted his hold on his weapon. “Dinner.”

Miral pointed at the body. “Do you want that?”

The First nodded at one of the guards and the guard leaned over the body, tapped his chest and said something to the other ship. The body and the guard disappeared in a flash of light.

Miral turned to Gretchen. “Go and make food.”

Gretchen didn't look at the Klingons as she passed, but made her way to the dining area. And there she created a truly Klingon meal.

==^==

By the time Miral and the Klingons arrived at the dining hall, Gretchen had set the table. There was a mix of human and Klingon delicacies. Miral's mate had made things that she knew her Klingon would like and just hoped that the others had similar kinds of taste buds. She even made oatmeal raisin cookies, even though they weren't exactly home cooked, they would do. She'd also prepared plenty of liquid refreshment, including prune juice, bloodwine and water (for herself, if it should come to it).

At first the Klingons had hesitated, until Miral started helping herself to the deviled eggs. Then they started trying some. Then they really fell to it, digging into the meal with a will. As they became more comfortable they began to talk.

By the end of it, the Imperial Cruiser offered the Captain a crew and Miral was obliged to take them. Also, contact had apparently been made with the Empire, where, it seemed, Miral's word of honor had been accepted. She was now a judge in two Universes.

==^==

“I'd have preferred slower. So would she. We weren't even at the courting stage yet.” It was a mild protest against the inevitable.

“Traditionalists,” Lwaxana tisked, though she too would have been considered one fairly recently.

Gretchen closed her eyes and leaned into her daughter's sympathetic touch. “Yes.”

“I will come to the Bridge.”

T'Pel shifted and opened her eyes. They too were deep and dark. She said nothing.

“Correction. We will go to the Bridge.”

==^==

Sometime later, the turbolift door to the bridge opened and three women stepped out. Lwaxana was the first to enter. She was robed in the traditional black and silver of the Truth Seeker, but wore a glorious pendant. She also wore the Crest of Presba on the shoulder of her robes. She was followed by Gretchen, who was wearing a see-through forest green tunic and tights combination. Gretchen was barefoot. As was T'Pel. The Vulcan also wore robes, though they were of a more diaphanous nature and vibrant compared to what Lwaxana was wearing. They too had the crest on their clothing. One would have to look at them to find it, but it was a dangerous occupation to look at them.

Never the less, the Klingon who now crewed the ship did turn to assess Lwaxana briefly. Very briefly. They hurriedly turned their attention back to their jobs. There was just something in her eyes. “Captain Torres,” greeted the Betazoid pleasantly.

“Lwaxana Troi of the House Presba. I am pleased to see you can join us today.” There was no sarcasm in the Klingon's voice. She raised her hand towards Gretchen and indicated a place near the captain's chair.

“I thank you for your patience.” Lwaxana said. Gretchen moved without haste, settled down besides her captain and curled her legs under herself. She looked comfortable and alert.

Captain Torres waved it off. “You could not help the illness. Too bad about the rest of the crew.”

Lwaxana's lips twitched. “Too bad. It was so... catchy.” She paused. “And you, captain?”

Miral spoke gruffly. “Fine. Fine. I've got a new crew now.” Her hand rested on Gretchen's hair and she began gently, absently stroking through the beautiful red mass.

“So I see.” The Betazoid noticed a seat by the captain and received a barely perceptible nod. She made her way towards it. T'Pel followed. But rather than sit besides Lwaxana, she stood and stared out at the view screen. “So where are we off to now?”

“It seems we have been hired, Lwaxana. The Empire saw us with this fine Klingon ship and thought we might be useful. Also, a commander of our rescuing ship noticed my robes. We're being sent to put someone on trial.”

“How very interesting.” Lwaxana smiled coldly and curious Klingons who happened to glance back shivered. “I am overjoyed to know that we may serve.”

==^==

Will Riker contacted Deanna and it did not go well. In the past, he would have been all over the adventure in the Klingon Empire. But being a captain had changed him. And there was something else going on.

Deanna knew it as soon as she saw him.

She tried to explain why it was important that she stay. She tried to explain that she was now a member of a Klingon House and had certain obligations. She tried to explain that her mother was...

“I don't know you any more,” was one of the phrases that got tossed out during the “discussion,” and not by her.

She had quietly replied, “Perhaps you never did.” And soon after, that was that.

She turned to Asil and grimaced. “He's definitely seeing someone. The guilt was staggering. That 'I don't know you anymore crap?' It was smoke and mirrors.”

“What will you do?”

“What else? I will stay with my family.”

Asil nodded. “Good.”

They could have gone back to Vulcan or to another place in the Alpha Quadrant, but after discussing things, Deanna, Asil and Phoebe opted to stay in the Beta quadrant – even though they had to buy a new ship to do it. From a Klingon perspective it made sense. It was fully expected that they would, at some point, take up matters with House Qua'lon. And they intended to do it. But there were ways and then there were ways.

And breaking House Qua'lon and the Orion Syndicate wasn't their first need. They began searching for a base of operations, otherwise known as an “estate.”

==^==

After their contact with Starfleet, Kathryn had been teleported back to the Nest by Voyager's own authorization. She hadn't been looking too steady on her feet. It took a couple of days for the adults of House Presba to gather themselves together again. When they came out of the Nest their eyes were filled with a frightening depth. People walked and talked carefully around them, even the pranksters of the ship.

It was probably a good idea, since the Captain had been all too serious when she'd described the savage impulse within them to the Admiral. Part of their time had been spent working through that feral desire. It never quite went away. But they did manage to find their way back to a semblance of normal. Still, they did not come out of the Nest the same people that went in.

Someone less wise than Counselor Nael might have suggested trying to vent those emotions on the Holodeck or to talk it out. But instead, Counselor Nael had taken to leading the Long Table discussions while Seven and her mates were occupied with healing. The children of the House Presba had needed the outlet and while they did not talk much about what was happening to their parents, they also participated without hesitation on other topics. This reassured the crew, which were still worried for their captain and crew-mates. The Zakeeri in particular seemed very aware of the problem and had an intuition of what might be the cause.

Physically the Captain and her mates checked out fine. In fact, other than not eating as well as they ought, they were in phenomenally good shape. Dr. Pulaski and Zimmerman cleared them for work.

==^==

Eventually, Captain Janeway called in the senior staff for a meeting. That is when the staff found out what had really happened. Kathryn was getting to the part where, if an Orion ship was found and captured, she and a select few would go and retrieve...

“Voyager to Captain Janeway.”

It was unusual behavior for the ship to make contact in such a visible way. But that in itself made it important to reply. “Janeway here.”

“Thank you,” the ship began. “But I think you are missing something in your planning.”

“Missing?”

“Yes. You are planning on ditching at least 90% of your resources and that is ... inadvisable.”

Kathryn blinked. “I'd hardly call it...”

“I'd actually call it 98%, Kathryn. Probably more, but I'm being generous, because I believe in you. But your crew are a resource. I am a resource. If you and say, I don't know, four other people go over to the Orion Ship... that is... if you manage to capture it and if such a ship should appear in the Delta Quadrant, that is the least percentage of unused resources.” Voyager's tone rose. “Now I've been listening to you and my family cobble together a plan, and have held my peace...”

“Voyager,” there was a warning tone in the Captain's Voice.

“Well, don't I have a say? Am I not part of the Prime of House Presba?”

Some of the senior staff looked startled, but not all of them. The Captain's expression gentled. “Of course you are. But...”

“And aren't your crew loyal? Do you think they would want to see you go off on your own to your probable death?”

“That is not the point.”

“No, the point is that you think that you can do this without us. And it is a stupid plan.” Voyager ground out.

“You tell 'em, girl.” Dr. Pulaski prodded, which earned her a glare from the Captain. The doctor merely raised her eyebrows, folded her arms and sat back in her seat.

“I made a promise to bring these people home, Voyager. My family and I have no right to...”

“Your family has every right to ask for help. Anyone has that right. And what about us? Just how well do you think the crew will survive without you? You have a huge knowledge and skill base that keeps me running in your household alone. More, do you intend to leave the children behind? Who will take care of them? You haven't even asked if the crew would be willing to fight for you. To join you. You haven't even asked me what I thought. I could have told you that the Zakeeri would fly to any Universe you picked, to fight with you. I could have told you that the Klingons in this crew long to be part of a ...” Voyager pulled herself together. “Look, my dear family. You have been out of your heads for the last little while, even with the most logical of you doing some of the heavy thinking. I figured your scheming was probably a good sign, because it meant you had decided to live. But do you really think you're the only ones who have been planning and preparing? I have access to all of the information in my database... I bet you I could help you come up with something better than what the Orion Syndicate has. But you haven't asked me. Heck, I might have...”

“Voyager...”

“If you're going to tell me I don't have a say, then you won't be hearing from me again, Kathryn.”

That comment derailed Kathryn for a moment, even though that wasn't what she was going to say.

B'Elanna cleared her throat. “May I speak?”

Janeway nodded.

Voyager then said, “Of course, Epatai.”

“Voyager, how do you feel about visiting another Universe?”

“I am overflowing with joy at the thought.” There was a growl behind the comment. “I want to fetch back our family members. I want to make the Orion Syndicate pay through their nacelles. I want to deliver my people safely home, but safety is not why we are out here. Honor demands that we, and by we, I mean myself and the crew, be given the chance to prove ourselves.”

“And the children?”

“My ... Our children wield Bat’leths B'Elanna. Remember? Do you want them to believe that they had no place, no right, to fight for their family? Besides, how safe have they been on this journey so far anyway? Is it any less or more dangerous? It's just the unknown. But it's always the unknown.”

There were glances around the table, not just between the family Presba.

Captain Kathryn Janeway took a deep breath. “Voyager?”

“Yes, my Kathryn?”

“I am sorry for not including you.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Chakotay?”

“Yes, Captain?”

Kathryn looked at B'Elanna and communication took place silently. Then the others of the House joined the discussion. There arose a consensus. Kathryn finished what she had been about to say, “Please put the gist of this discussion up on Voyager's channel. Tell them what happened; tell them that rescue involves finding and capturing an Orion Syndicate ship or finding our own way to the other Universe. Tell them that we may not make it back, but we would make every effort. Make the information about the other Universe public on this ship. Tell them that any plans and changes would be made with their input. Inform our crew that they have a say and let them vote. It will only be volunteer and it will be unanimous. Give them twenty four hours to respond. Either we all go. Or... none of us do.”

There was silence around the table. “Aye, Captain.”


	9. Chapter 9

A week later they were still in the Delta Quadrant and Captain Kathryn Janeway was filled with wonder. Given the number of persons in the crew she had fully expected that the vote would be split. It was an inevitable that there would be differences about the choices. She'd known how dedicated her crew were to returning home.

She and her family had not gone stumping. If asked, they wouldn't even share an opinion, only the facts as they knew them. They did join the Long Table again, though this time they too just randomly chose seats like the other crew. Now it wasn't the family holding court, but the crew of the ship having an extended conversation that could go... well... 24/7. The table had become a permanent fixture and people could be found there at any time.

Counselor Nael had been there that first day they had awakened and the days following. Somehow she was always there when one of them found time to be at the table. They talked with her casually, only briefly touching on what happened, but enough to give her a sense of the depth of the wound. She was amazed that they were walking, let alone functioning. But she had always been impressed with the strength that could be found in other beings.

Kate Pulaski even joined the table now and then. At their first encounter Janeway had immediately stood up. Kate had snipped at her, “Oh sit down.” And that had been it. The Long Table was considered sacred, neutral ground.

Well mostly neutral. Dr. Pulaski did keep Kathryn on her toes with some rather heated debates while at the table. No subject was taboo with her. And she asked probing, nosy questions about family arrangements. Kathryn found herself *having* to speak honestly about them. Including the stuff that mystified them.

Kate still didn't talk to her in the corridor or otherwise outside of professional needs. Then again, she double checked Dr. Zimmerman's work anytime Kathryn came into Sickbay for her follow ups. That was all under the heading of keeping the captain well.

Ironically, the dichotomous behavior caused the captain to remember why she'd loved the woman in the first place.

The vote, when finally tallied, was unanimous. Once the announcement was made, suggestions for accomplishing the mission immediately began pouring in. If the captain's half-smile was a bit watery when she handed the responsibility of parsing them to Laren, no one commented.

==^==

After much discussion, this time Voyager was included in on it, it was decided that patrolling for an Orion Syndicate ship was not their best use of time. The percentages just didn't support it. While stopping at an M-Class planet and installing ablative armor, weaponry and other kinds of updates did make sense, either way it jumped. They calculated the time necessary to make the full installation and update the little ships too.

Four months. It would take four months to complete the project, but they would also be looking at ways to get to that other Universe. Add two months for training. Roles might need to be taken or the Marines might need to be called in.

Four months was forever. Six months would be an eternity.

But it could have been a year before they spotted an Orion Syndicate ship anyway. If there were any that made it to the Delta Quadrant again.

They backtracked back to that last M-class planet, deciding it was worth it to utilize known space and contacts. It was close enough to the Ubiyak system to make port stops worth it.

Then they got to work.

==^==

They had decided that, if they were going to be working in this Universe, they would do an honest job of it.

Thus, by the time they arrived at Forcas III, Miral, Gretchen, Lwaxana and T'Pel had taken time to get to know the Universe and its ways a bit more. In a way it turned out Miral was correct; the laws of this Universe were pretty straight forward. If it weren't for that wrong turn that humanity took along the way, many of them might even seem familiar.

This is because, if a society is to last, there must be stability.

Despite propaganda, Klingons did not just go around arbitrarily fighting for the right to a position, not even in this Universe. There had to be a good reason for the removal and replacement. Miral was safe as a captain, because she was good at it and she was Her Honor. Lwaxana was safe, because she was a Truth Seeker and no one messed with Truth Seekers. No one. And a Truth Seeker in combination with a Vulcan as a personal slave/mate? If Klingons had a version of making the cross at trouble, they used it – when they thought the Truth Seeker couldn't see.

Personal slave/mates did have traditional rights, as well as responsibilities. Rank has its privileges and Gretchen was Miral's and T'Pel was Lwaxana's and no one questioned it. Especially after that opening incident. The crew agreed that the guard deserved what he got for being unobservant in the first place. The bite mark on Gretchen was obvious when you managed to catch sight of it and Lwaxana sometimes led T'Pel around with two fingers.

Besides, Gretchen was a good cook, from a Klingon perspective. She was valuable simply for what she could do with Gagh. And the crew would kill for those cookies. Heck, they would defend the ship against all comers for those cookies. It would be a shame to cause any problem that meant that the crew of the Klingon Justice had to rely on replicators, like their buddies on other ships. They treated her, and the silent, distant, brilliant T'Pel like ship's pets and they would guard them with their lives.

It was safest.

On the other hand, most slaves did not have that kind of protection and the members of the House Presba were frankly grateful that there were none of the other types on the ship. It would have weighed on their conscience, because they had already committed to survival first.

They would not try to interfere with the progress of this Universe. If someone were to ask them their opinion, Lwaxana and Miral would be honest. Because it was their duty as Truth Seeker and Judge. They had decided to take a particularly Klingon approach to their problem. All of them would strive to act in such a way as to bring Honor to the House Presba and from that point every decision they made would make sense.

==^==

Forcas III was a dismal place, gray where it should have been green, smoggy with industrial fumes and grime. This world had not been transformed by the necessity to preserve their worlds. In this Universe the tradition for consuming the planet still held strong.

It pained Miral to see the planet like this, when she knew what it could be. But things were as they were. The four women and two guards transported directly to the Judgment Hall.

They were aware that it could be a trap, but had decided, based on the surface thoughts of the crew, that it was unlikely. Still, this time there was more preparation. The dishonorable behavior of Tulek was also foremost on their minds. Thus, this time, Miral wore weaponry over her robes - knives and phasers and she carried her Bat’leth. The guard didn't act as if this was unusual at all. Lwaxana had one phaser located in her robes. T'Pel and Gretchen had weapons of non-obvious quality about their persons. Nothing metal. Nothing that would set off a perimeter alert and all traditionally legal for personal slave/mates.

Personal slave/mates were obligated to defend themselves from strangers. That was what made them unique. They could use tools at hand, their own bodies, and those weapons that were approved by their masters and legal to the system. As they were in the Beta system, technically, they could wield a Bat’leth if their master/mate gave the order.

The idea being that, if a slave was that close to the master, then the master had better be able to trust them.

If not, then there was no point in having them.

The Judgment Hall was similar to the one in that small town in Ab'Liev. There was the hall and there was the circle. In the Hall there was already an audience gathered. There were a variety of species, but mostly Klingon present. The wealthier, as indicated by their dress, and the elders, as indicated by the color of their hair, were towards the front. Again, another myth dispelled. There were respected elders in Klingon worlds. Otherwise, how would tradition be passed down? It's just that when Elders felt their time had come, they sought death in battle, either hunting, war or ceremonial.

The accused was not yet present, but the accuser was already at their table. They stood as Miral entered the room, their gaze passed right over Gretchen as if she were of no importance, and their eyes widened when they spotted Lwaxana and then T'Pel. The accuser and their counsel began talking animatedly with each other. They abruptly went silent as the women passed them.

Miral took her seat and stabbed one of the sharp points of the Bat’leth into the floor besides her chair causing it to stand vertical besides her and making it easy to grab. Gretchen settled besides the seat on a pillow on the floor. Some bright person had thought to call ahead and mention that Her Honor had a Personal Slave/Mate. It was a luxury, which only added to the illusion of status. Or maybe it wasn't such an illusion. After all, someone had to pay the Judge to be there.

Lwaxana and T'Pel were settled in a similar arrangement to Miral's left.

One guard took position on Miral's right and the other took position on Lwaxana's left.

Miral glanced around, then folded her hands together and sat back. Then she introduced herself. “I am Miral Torres of the House Presba. I am a level two Judge.” There was a murmur of awe and surprise. “This,” she indicated the Betazoid. “Is Lwaxana Troi of the House Presba, Truth Seeker.” Now the murmurs doubled in their noise level. No one had ever heard of a Betazoid as part of a Klingon House.

“Silence!” The Hall went quiet. “I have been called to render judgment in a case between Aatan of the House Kamarg and Tel Peh of Bajor. As no one has bothered to tell me what the dispute is about, I will hear from both sides. Bring in the accused so we may begin.”

==^==

Aatan of the House Kamarg was short for a Klingon, but he stood proud at his height. He was also lighter featured, with dark eyes and brown curly hair. He wore his beard trimmed, but his hair wild. He wore traditional armor, black and metal. His counsel was similarly dressed and featured. He was perhaps a cousin or brother.

Tel Peh did not wear armor. In fact, the man was barely wearing anything, from a Klingon perspective. Tunic and slacks covered his quivering, pale body. Chains covered his wrists and ankles. If he had been of the slave races he would already be dead, but as he was a member of the coalition, he was to be given a fair trial.

The city guard guided and slightly pushed Tel Peh into place at the accused's station.

“Tel Peh of Bajor, where is your counsel?”

“Uh,” the shaking man looked around the room. “I don't have any...”

“Was counsel offered?”

“No. Your Honor.”

Miral growled unpleasantly and Tel Peh started back. The judge tapped Gretchen on the shoulder. “This is my personal slave/mate. She is an informed counselor and bears my House Name.” Suddenly those who overlooked Gretchen were rapidly examining their assumptions. “Will you accept her as your counsel?”

The man looked almost as if he wanted to say no. Who wanted a slave as...

But Miral ran over his thought process unmercifully. “Or are you too proud, Bajoran? I will tell you now, no one else will speak for you.” She grimaced toothily at him. “And I remind you, this is a Klingon trial.”

The Bajoran gulped. “I... I humbly accept.”

“Wise of you.” Growled the judge. Then she touched the slave's shoulder, “Go, my mate, assist the man. I will give you three minutes to interview him.”

The red-head stood up, turned to Miral and bowed, then walked to the accused's side. There she bowed to the Bajoran. “This humble slave is available as counsel. Does the accused have anything which he wishes to reveal to her so that her assistance may prove useful?”

The accused shot a panicky look at the judge, then blurted, “I'm innocent.”

“All are innocent before the court, sir, until proved otherwise. But Klingon justice is swift. Do you have evidence to prove your innocence?”

“I... no.”

“If you would tell me the history of your troubles? I am afraid I must remind you that we are under a time limit.” Gretchen's calm tone settled the man a little. He began to speak, quickly, packing as much information as he could in his description. At the end, with a few seconds to spare, the red-head thanked him for the input and told him she would do her best to help him where the law applied.

“But, the Truth Seeker...”

“She is here to insure that the truth is given by both parties as they see it, to apply punishment for lying or to apply punishment if the judge declares that as the penalty. She is not here for your convenience or to free you. The judge may decide to put you to labor for causing her to be here in the first place. Or she may enact the challenge as a means of mediation and give you a chance to fight for your freedom or to die with honor, and thus clear your name. It is the Klingon way and her right.” The man paled. “On the other hand, I am here to assist you. I can provide counsel and arguments in your favor, if you will allow it.”

The Gavel banged. “Court is now in session.”

==^==

After the trial was over and Tel Peh lay dead in the circle, certain audience members approached the bench. By that time Gretchen had joined Miral again. Miral's hand stroked comfortingly through her mate's hair. It had been a quick, but upsetting battle for the red-head. Not that she hadn't done an upstanding job as the counsel.

But Tel Peh had not proved the wisest of men and had deconstructed the careful arguments that Gretchen had made on his behalf by jumping the gun and demanding a mediation. If he'd been a little patient, he would have been a free man – all accomplished without dishonoring either party. It had been obvious to anyone who had been watching.

As it was, Aatan had actually bowed to the slave as well as the judge before taking his leave.

Now some of the town elite came to pay their respects. One of the Elders, a shaggy silver-maned male, said, “I was doubtful of your choices at first, but now I believe I understand. No one can claim that you are unfair, your Honor. And your test of the accused was most profound. It is too bad he was a fool. The town will pay your fee and ship's costs.”

Miral thanked them and directed them to T'Pel. “She handles the family finances, gentlemen. Unless you do not care to associate with a mere slave.”

The elder glanced meaningfully at the body now cooling on the ground. “We, your Honor, are not fools.”

==^==

It was old. It was dilapidated. It was perfect for the price. Especially considering what they planned on doing with the territory. The planet was lush and habitable. The moon also had atmosphere, forest and water. It had been mined, but not depleted. The Klingon House that originally owned the planet and its moon fell on hard times before they could ruin it and the price had gone down the longer it remained empty. The system was located far enough from the Dominion Border to be considered somewhat safe. The “colony” it had been had long since departed for greener pastures closer to Qo'nos, but the infrastructure remained.

Asil, Deanna and Phoebe would begin to build their base here and see where it led.

==^==

The M-class system had a classic blue planet, with large land masses and beautiful azure oceans. This was the first time landing since the alternations of the Maze of Mines and there was some trepidation given Voyager's new size. But the ship remained streamlined, ready for air and space.

Before landing a defense satellite system had been put in place. It was small, but it would be adequate for notification. It would also serve as a communication tool, since not all the materials needed for repairs would be in Voyager's exact location. As soon as the prep-work was completely they began.

They entered the atmosphere like a new sharp blade slicing cake.

The Zakeeri ships followed Voyager down, flying around her like sparrows around a hawk. All of the little vehicles loved it and they zipped about, enjoying the free fall sensation. Stinging Sparrow kept up a running commentary to Voyager about everything she was seeing, from the long green swaths of jungle, to verdant plains with herd-beasts galloping, to the blue ribbons of rivers. It was partly because she enjoyed it, but also partly to act as a comfort to Voyager.

Voyager had realized this was the first time she'd ever landed as a conscious being. She'd been very nervous about the process. More so than even her crew. She listened to Stinging Sparrow like a lifeline. She also paid close attention, not just to her surroundings, but to the way Tom was handling her, guiding her along. She realized that there might be a time when she needed to land herself and though technical manuals were very helpful, there was skill involved. And intuition. Oh she hoped she had that kind of intuition if it came down to it.

The ship coming down for a landing was an awesome sight. There was a rousing cry from Sofuru and his squadron as Voyager landed squarely and safely on the planned location, a nice, open meadow not far from an open lake. Stinging Sparrow sent out a hug along their special line. “You did it honey! Told you!”

Voyager simply sighed in absolute relief.

The Zakeeri ships did not go back into the Docking Bay. They and the non-sentient shuttles would be acting as extra “hands,” in the project. They were excited about the project because it was new and they'd be able to fly around, maybe go to Ubiyak to pick up materials, run special errands to other systems... There was much to look forward to. It was Voyager who was going to be landlocked. Already the stabilizers were extending deep into the ground.

Voyager would be helping too. The crew was becoming habituated to her assistance already, as she extended her Waldos to pick up tools, help crank a wrench, pour a vial at just the right moment. She would be invaluable in her own adaptation. She was beginning to understand the process of her nannites more, so she trusted that any changes she needed made, would be accommodated and possibly blended right into her system. She was personally looking forward to the armor, though she wondered how it would be adapted with her Darkling technology.

Portals on the ship popped open with hisses, venting the ship and letting in the fresh air. Certain members of the crew busily disembarked, carrying large and small objects. Soon they would be building the temporary shelters and units that would be needed for the duration. Other members of the crew began setting up a wide security perimeter, placing specialized units around the area that was going to be occupied. Others began the first steps on the long process that was essentially a ship redesign. Soon, within the still busy corridors, there were sparks flying, panels being removed, and coils and parts being pulled into view.

Voyager suddenly felt naked and vulnerable. This would take some getting used to. Fortunately for her, Stinging Sparrow was there to hold her figurative hand.

==^==

“We should name it,” said B'Elanna. She and Seven of Nine were deep within Voyager, making some of those inner adaptations. Kathryn was on an away mission to Ubiyak, with Commander Magnum, Tom, Harry, Mr. Neelix and Ro Laren. Tuvok was running his security team ragged over an incident with a local pachyderm, the security net, and one of their smaller equipment bunkers.

“Name what?” asked Seven as she reached into another blue-lit space and made new connections.

“The Planet. Don't you get a little bored with the scientific description?”

“No,” answered the ex-drone. “But that is because I prefer precise designations.”

“A new name could be precise.”

“Perhaps you ought to bring this to Commander Chakotay's attention.”

“Could you hand me the Link-Kit. Yeah, you're probably right. I'll talk to him tonight at the cook-out.”

==^==

“You can leave it to us,” Commander Magnum said to a completely not-reassured Captain Janeway. “We'll get the blocking manifold, the tri-sonic glazer and those other components you were wanting.”

“Do nothing illegal.”

Commander Magnum managed to look wounded, “Of course not. It will be ours fair and square.”

Kathryn tried not to wince at her Supply Officer’s phrasing. “I don't want to have to pick up the items at the back of a dock somewhere either.”

“We will be discrete, yet open.”

“Alright.” She looked at the four men. Then nodded. “I'll trust you. Ro and I will go talk to the station master and then drop some notices on the Ubiyak Net. You see what you can get for us.”

“Will do.”

They split off to their own paths.

==^==

The cook-out was going strong by the time B'Elanna and Seven finished. They grabbed plates full of food and mugs full of something sweet and light. Seven checked in on the children. Icheb was playing Volleyball. Azan and Rebi were building some sort of sport diving platform, with the encouragement and help of some enthusiastic crew. Mezoti, Naomi and Emina were with Ceduril and Utexic, playing Yadok. Well, Emina was doing more “assisting” by randomly moving or taking the small statue-like pieces completely out of the game so she could examine or chew on them.

Sofuru was telling wild stories that had the girls completely amused, but not distracted from the game. Seven and B'Elanna joined them and began eating their meal.

“Sofuru, I was talking with Seven. What do you think about naming the planet?”

“I think you should talk with Chakotay. He'd put it up for a vote.”

“That's what Seven said.”

“Your mate is wise, Epatai. That's why you chose her, yes.”

B'Elanna looked amused. “Honestly, I'm not sure how much my choosing came into play in it. But...,” she turned a serious gaze to Seven, “...I am so glad she chose me.”

They touched two fingertips to two.

==^==

“What ... who... is this?”

“Well, you may recall that we couldn't find the equivalent of a Heidrickson Quantum Calibrator? Well, this,” Commander Magnum slapped the tall, lavender being on the shoulder, which was quite the reach, since the creature was several feet taller than the Commander. “... is Dandwenny. He is a Kutwutchu.” The Kutwutchu gave a small bow. His long white hair flowed gently about his broad shoulders. His smile was very human-like. He wore a simple brown smock, which covered him from torso to his upper thighs. Steve continued his introduction with, “He is much better than a quantum calibrator because he can make them. Well, and a few other components we need. He has agreed to accompany us to the planet, if we allow him to bring along his ... uh.... family.”

“His family. How many are we talking here. Two or three?”

“More like twenty.” The commander paused and then apparently recalculated. 'Well, possibly fifty.”

The captain's eyes widened.

Commander Magnum hastened to reassure his captain. “They'll be coming on their own ship. Trust me. It'll be worth it. Oh, and... you may be hearing from the Station Master about a small misunderstanding in the Sania Pub. We greased... I mean, we did resolve the matter with the pub owner, but Dandwenny's original owner...”

“Owner?!”

“... was a little put out when we won him and his family at cards. Now, we won them on the level, but the owner was a bit upset, because I suppose he thought we shouldn't have. Well, and if we'd stayed with his deck we probably wouldn't have. But we're in the clear, because Riclaw was clearly cheating and got caught, but there was the matter of the broken tables and chairs afterwards.”

“Are you telling me...”

“Oh, and, of course, being Starfleet, I set Dandwenny and company free as soon as we got them. Right there in the Pub. Which Riclaw wasn't to happy with. Thus the tables and chairs. Dandwenny is coming of his own will.” Again Commander Magnum slapped the creature's back.

Dandwenny raised a long, delicate looking hand. “We are pleased to be free. We go with you. Our debt paid in full.”

“You don't owe us for setting you free,” started Kathryn grimly.

“It is balance. Payment made to us to aid you. And new home offered. Is true we may stay on your planet if we go?”

“Our Planet?” She gave Commander Magnum a stern look, but realized she couldn't say it wasn't.

Lieutenant Ro said, “Which has only recently been named. Voyager's Rest has plenty of room for colonists.”

Kathryn was desperately trying not to pinch the bridge of her nose. A part of her mind was thinking of all the ripples she had made so far in this Universe and wondering. She couldn't quite summon even a fake smile, but she nodded. “Of course you will be welcome. You'll have to abide by our rules, but we appreciate all assistance.”

Now Tom spoke up, grinning. He had a gloriously bruised black eye. “See, Steve. I told you.”

Harry grinned too. He also sported an impressive shiner. Neelix looked liked he'd been used to scrub someone's backside. Steve Magnum looked fresh and un-mussed, except for his comm badge, which appeared to be hanging on by a thread, and the back of his hands, which were bright red.

Now Kathryn wondered at what Tom had been confident about , but decided to roll with it. She had been the one who wanted more engineers. “Welcome to the crew, Dandwenny.”

==^==

Natok was a scout and he was there at the bar fight. It was he who witnessed the clever way the Kutwutchu was set free and the stalwart bravery of the fighters. Being small, he was easy to miss, though he did participate in the battle, since it was an honorable one. He had grabbed up four sturdy pieces of wood, which were longer than he was, and had waded into the fight like he owned it.

People's shins suffered, then other sensitive points, such as their crotches - or whatever would make them bend enough for him to get a good whack on the head or faces. Natok had always been very efficient in his fighting.

Afterwards he followed the Kutwutchu and it's new friends through the port. There he saw that they met with a female, who at first looked distressed and disapproving. But then her attitude changed. He warmed to her when he realized that the people who acted honorably were not, in fact, in trouble.

After that meeting, Dandwenny then departed from the group to go to his ship. Natok followed, for the port that the Kutwutchu ships were located at were where he and his tribe lived. The tall beings had caught their interests, which is why he had been following them in the first place. Now he could report that he and his tribe would not have to cause damage to Riclaw and free the Kutwutchu. It was already done.

==^==

Summer was in full swing on Voyager's Rest. The sky was blue, the trees were green, and weather sublime. A village had formed around the ship. It was a mix of crew and other beings who – on their own journeys, because they were paid for services, or other circumstances – stopped and joined them in the renovation of the ship. Voyager's Rest was also becoming a popular stopping point for ships along the way, a mini vacation spot of sorts, since they were between the Ubiyak system port and Hla system port. So on the one hand there was the busy bee type activity going on with Voyager and on the other a thriving resort by the lake filled with all kinds of beings.

The Long Table was now established in two locations. One was in the mess hall and the other was located half in and half out of a habitat near the lake. Counselor Nael could be found at one of the Long Tables or in her office depending on the time of day.

The Kutwutchu had adapted quickly to their new home. They had added their cultural flair to the growing colony and the buildings around Voyager and the resort were taller, with open walkways and peaked rooftops reminiscent of the temples of Japan. There were gardens, for vegetables and for visiting. There were small fountains and statuary. It was actually quite cozy and yet ornate at the same time.

A small tribe of creatures caught a ride on the Kutwutchu ship and found themselves on a world that seemed made for them – if a little more dangerous than the Ubiyakian Park. The creatures found the treetops commodious and were instantly mistaken for local fauna. That was fine with them, as there were certain benefits to not being noticed. However, it didn't stop them from “helping,” the colony and Voyager in their own way. It never once occurred to the Kutwutchu to mention the stowaways to Janeway. They were too busy integrating into crew or colony.

Some of the Kazon that Voyager had battled just a few months ago were encountered again. Zakeeri from Voyager's Rest went on errands with Commander Magnum Ubiyak Port regularly. There they encountered seven younger individuals of the tribe who wanted something different for themselves. The Zakeeri did as they promised and treated the youngsters to a meal and drinks. So, three males and four females, followed the Zakeeri home like lost puppies. In fact, it was pretty much the Zakeeri making “Can we keep them? Pleeeaasse?” kinds of arguments to the captain that persuaded her to let them stay. She made it clear that like all her crew, they would have to obey the ship rules, follow the ship protocol and keep the Prime Directive when encountering less technologically savvy races. She emphasized that this meant their previous tribe.

A young Kazon male looked at her and said, rather bluntly, “We have no tribe, but Voyager. You are Maj.”

She shook her head and gave a stern glance to all of them. “No. I am Captain. On Voyager I am higher than Maj.” Then she said, “Welcome Aboard.”

Then she turned to head of the Glory Dragon's and said, “They're your responsibility. Take them to Chakotay and get them into the program.”

The Zakeeri merely smiled fiercely. “We have discussed their possible roles on the ship. They will make great Marines. You will not regret it.”

Captain Janeway surely hoped not. On the other hand, a part of her was encouraged. Her ship was becoming more like a Starfleet vessel ought to be, with plenty of species working together towards a common goal. It was also possible it would be good to have Kazon on the ship if they ever had to negotiate with species again. That is, if their tribe was at peace with the other. That being the problem with trying to negotiate with Kazon.

She did tell the young people though, “Don't feel bound to join the Marines if it's not a good fit. There will be a full spectrum test to help you determine what suits you best. Take advantage of it.”

If the Kazon was surprised at her liberal attitude they did not comment. They just bowed to her. The Zakeeri merely continued to smile affably, pleased at their win. They'd told the Kazon and had not been believed.

Janeway had to leave before she said something she shouldn't.

As time went on more Zakeeri, who had heard that Voyager had stopped for the construction and wanted to join up with or visit them before they took off again, dropped by Voyager's Rest. Some of them came with ships, intending to join Voyager itself. Three more ships were added to Voyager's roster. They had to deny the others due to space availability.

Those who were denied space on Voyager herself, then stayed just to join the colony and be their defenders. But there were plenty of Zakeeri who also arrived without the special beings in tow. This included a mated group of three Zakeeri shamans. They'd been sent personally from the Sun Tiger clan, because Sofuru's mother felt there was a lack in Voyager’s crew. They needed people able to console or provide guidance or counsel. And of course, there hadn't been anyone when they'd met her. Well, and Counselor Nael felt quite the same, given the growth of the ship population. As soon as they joined the crew, they were co-opted by the counselor to become part of her department.

The captain teased Ro Laren for a bit. It was a rare thing that sparked Kathryn's sense of humor these days, so Laren tolerated the jokes for awhile. Then one day she pointed out that she would have to give up her position as assistant to take up the calling. The jokes kind of waned after that. Kind of.

There were some distractions, but on the whole, the work proceeded as scheduled, maybe a bit ahead. The members of the House Presba threw themselves into the project, only to be reprimanded by stern doctors about overwork. So they threw themselves into work a bit more gently and took some time off to go to the lake or to spend time in each other's company or with their kids or with their people.

The loss never went away. But they learned to cope and rely on each other. Their love for one another deepened as Voyager was slowly transformed into an extraordinary battleship.

==^==

Sarah Tucker and her drill instructors carefully prepared the crucible, which was essentially a high-hazard course designed to inspire teamwork as well as individual successes. It would be the final exercise for most of the Marines, a seventy two hour effort that would test the mettle of everyone who had participated in their training, turning them from mere mortals into Marines. The difficulty lay in stressing everyone to the limit, since base-lines were unique to each species. But Starfleet had methods and Sarah and her team had garnered help from the Medical staff, who would be on call for the duration.

With the help of security, they outlined a map and planned out the stations. Then they got other experienced crew to participate. This would teach the Marines respect for other departments.

By the time they were done mapping things out they were all, except for Tuvok, grinning quite wickedly at each other.

==^==

The setting sun caused light to flash on Voyager's hull, which caused the climber to hide her eyes with her palm. “You up there Seven?” B'Elanna called. Although, technically she knew. She always knew where Seven of Nine was in relation to herself.

“I am here, BangwI,” the ex-drone called back down. “Do you wish assistance?”

“No. No. I got it!” B'Elanna hauled the pack into a more comfortable position and continued her climb up. Eventually she reached a more or less level part and spotted her beloved Borg. She waved, “I've got lunch!”

The healthily physiqued, well tanned, now nearly platinum-blonde woman turned to offer a small smile to her beautiful Klingon. None of the mates were quite at the bright wonderful grin point yet. But they always welcomed the sight of their beloveds. Seven of Nine put down the large, complicated tool carefully. Other beings had to lift it with mechanical assistance and she liked to be sure that it would not accidentally cause injury. At this point, it could not scratch Voyager's hull any more. The armor that they had installed on Voyager had been absorbed in a process that none of them had quite understood. It had happened for all of the Zakeeri ships as well. So those ships which had been silver remained their usual bright selves.

B'Elanna began settling a blanket onto the surface of the ship, tacking it down with special locking mechanisms so it wouldn't float away in the wind. Then she settled herself on the blanket and opened the pack to pull out the food. “Come sit down, love.”

Seven of Nine sat down cross-legged. Like B'Elanna she was in shorts and shirt, with work boots, gloves and helmet. She peeled off the gloves and stuck them in her belt. “When is Commander Tucker going to run her troops?” She inquired. She'd heard through the network that the Commander planned on starting training early.

“She's already got them running through the woods. We're ahead of schedule, so the captain gave the go ahead. She figured it would keep some of those Klingon types from getting bored. Go figure.” The Klingon bit into her sandwich. She, of course, was not bored because she was too busy.

“I am sure that Commander Tucker will...” what was that phrase again? Ah...” Run them ragged.”

The Klingon smirked and looked into ice-blue eyes. She wasn't sure what sparked it, maybe it was the scent of metal and sweat and Seven. Maybe it was the way her Borg looked at her. Maybe it was just that it had been so long, but one moment she was chewing and the next, she felt lava flow through her blood.

It had been so long that she almost forgot what it meant, how to respond. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled. Seven's eyes widened and B'Elanna knew that the familiar pulse had hit her too. The Borg delicately set her meal down and enclosed it neatly in its wrapper. She didn't dare look up, even when she took the sandwich from B'Elanna's hands.

Their fingertips brushed and the heat flared through the touch, familiar and new. She gasped and still she held back. She was afraid that the need would disappear, she realized. The meal was put away and now she looked up. B'Elanna's gaze was hot, wanton, needful.

Seven pondered and grabbed the hem of her shirt. She pulled it off in one swift move. B'Elanna growled then and sprang forward, pushing Seven of Nine down onto the blanket and kissing her steamily and hard enough to start the blonde moaning right away. B'Elanna's touch burned through her and Seven felt the other woman tug at her shorts and then, in frustration, tear them off.

There was barely seconds that passed before B'Elanna's fingers were deep inside of the blonde, thrusting, pressing and searching. Seven of Nine had been instantly wet, receptive. She rocked against B'Elanna's erotic demand, cried out her need, responded with touch of her own. But B'Elanna wasn't ready to be pleasured yet. She held back, wanting and needing to feel Seven reach the peak.

Her mouth created a line of wet fireworks along Seven's abdomen and implants. She made a holy passage down and down, until she found the apex, the sweet pearl. There she lingered, drawing out Seven's pleasure. Needing to feel the Borg flex and cry. B'Elanna spoke to Seven, told her of her need, her love, her desire as she filled her mate. Seven arched, called out her name and miraculously did not manage to dent the hull.

The new armor worked!


	10. Chapter 10

The Klingon Justice was making its way to another Klingon colony world in the Beta Quadrant. They had now been to several and their docket and reputation were growing. The House Presba in this Universe stuck with the plan and it was working. They kept their eye out for Orion Syndicate cases. The Syndicate existed here and they were just as loathed by the general public, but they had a strong hold in the system because of the “protection” services they provided. Nothing showed, yet.

T'Pel was stationed at a computer system, doing two occupations. One was correlating information about Syndicate behavior and the other was making fiscal transactions and monitoring the interquadrant stock market. It had become somewhat of a hobby over the past few weeks. She had set a small personal goal of increasing the wealth of the House Presba in this Universe, while subtly supporting non-slavery institutions. As Phoebe might say, she was raking in the dough. This was good, since they also had to pay the Klingons who crewed the ship. It made for a nice fiscal tension.

Lwaxana was continuing her study of the politics of the Universe, reading up on the Intendants and the political players in the various systems. She found it diverting. The Klingon crew were finally relaxing around her enough not to cringe when she walked by. But they did get out of her way quickly. It was an odd mix of frustration and power that she felt at the moment.

They were both occupied by their different pursuits when the flare began. It had startled Lwaxana enough that she dropped the PADD that she'd been holding. Miral had looked at her and then her eyebrows raised. “You best get to quarters, Lwaxana.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Miral had merely nodded. “Take your Vulcan with you, will you?”

“Of course.”

Gretchen unobtrusively picked up the PADD and placed it near Lwaxana's hand. The Betazoid took it with a grateful glance. Then she excused herself from the Bridge, claiming T'Pel's company along the way.

They walked with barely concealed haste to their quarters. When the doors hissed closed behind her, Lwaxana tossed the PADD onto a nearby table, then cried out. “Get these clothes off of me, please!”

T'Pel stepped forward, and ripped the garment off of Lwaxana's beautiful body, then she stripped the necklace off in a swift movement. In seconds she was pressing herself against the Betazoid, growling hungrily into their kiss.

Lwaxana felt the blending of their desire, their thoughts. The heat of it rolled off of them, flowed through them.

They barely made it to the bed. T'Pel had been stripping along the way, until finally they were naked to one another.

'I need,' T'Pel's mind touched Lwaxana's, cried for her and for them.

'I need,' affirmed Lwaxana, and she kissed her mate hungrily, brushed her hands down smooth, gorgeous breasts and sides.

T'Pel opened to Lwaxana's touch, needing to be filled, to be tasted. They turned in each other's arms, reflecting like erotic mirrors. Their mouths and hands found what they sought and they floated together, pressed into one another. Blessed kisses were placed upon one another. They supped at the altar of generation, salt and sweet, need and release. They shuddered and rose together, cried into one another and found ecstasy in their sorrow.

==^==

The Estate of House Presba did not have a pretty lawn or large statues guarding the domicile. It did not have slaves or wild parties for the whole family. What it did have were three hard working women with simple goals.

They selected the largest abode in the colony and cleaned it and set it up for habitation. They put the family crest in visible places in the hallway, but otherwise, avoided ostentation. They set up a family gym circle and built a Holodeck for other kinds of practice.

Then they started considering how to add to the House.

Orders were placed for equipment. People were hired and specifically told they would be working for the Estate of House Presba. The women thought that if they had the land, they might as well use it

While they were reaching out, they were contacted by friends of Malvok and persons who had been affected positively by Miral Torres. Tiny alliances were formed. Miniscule. But every little bit helped, even if all it could be was good will.

The shuttles began arriving soon after.

One stormy night, when the rain was pouring hard enough to flood and cold enough to chill the bone, a chime rang at the main house. Phoebe Janeway answered the door and found herself looking down and then down again. A skinny young Klingon girl, drenched, stood shuddering on the steps. “I am Auloh, niece of Tulek.” She said through chattering teeth. “I was the one he made call. I am of the House no longer. They can not make me speak for them any more.” She shivered visibly, “I can only speak for myself. I am here to serve.”

==^==

Ensign Vah was Kazon and was amazed that he could still move. Okay, that was perhaps an exaggeration, but everything ached. The sleep had been sparse. They'd been run to the ground, run through water and mud and things he still wished he hadn't smelled. They'd been shot at, charged and flipped, fought in hand to hand in crazy circumstances, struggled through inconceivably wicked traps like a field of mines with short supplies, which forced them to work together or firefighting, which forced them to get strategic. They had to make firing runs at speeds he didn't know he could maintain and it went on and on. They had to find food and water on the run and sometimes that food wasn't free. He was amazed some of them weren't dead, given the ferocity of the experience.

It was worse than his manhood trial.

And yet, he was still alive, and he was marching the long march aside his companions. They'd been at it since before light and they had covered miles. Now the sun was rising. They passed across a bridge and the drill instructors were having them do the calls. For some reason the rhythm of it helped. His feet kept moving, despite himself.

Eventually they arrived at a circular space. The Captain was there, as was Commander Tucker and the Zakeeri Shamans. The instructors called the recruits to halt. A holographic image rose behind the Captain and those with her. Ensign Vah recognized them as the Marine colors of Starfleet. Like the rest of the recruits, he saluted. The Zakeeri shamans then stepped forward, uttering words that were somewhat foreign to them, but came from a long and sacred tradition. Then Commander Tucker stepped forward and called out individuals by name.

When Ensign Vah finally heard his name, he stepped up. Commander Tucker placed the pips that signaled his new state and took his hand. She shook it firmly and looked him in the eye. “Congratulations, Marine.”

He had never been prouder.

==^==

Ensign Chase entered the Ready Room. “Beggin' Your Pardon, Captain, but I have a suggestion...” If he'd had a hat in his hands he would have been wringing it.

The captain didn't smile, but her look was gentle. “Ensign, you may direct suggestions to Lieutenant Ro.”

“Ah. Thank you.” He rotated on his heel and spoke again. “Beggin' Your Pardon, Lieutenant Ro, but I have a suggestion...”

Lieutenant Ro quirked a brow and said, “Please. Convey it.”

“Ah. Yes, Ma'am. You see, I've been talking with my buddies Tat'el and Dukath. We're in the Marine compliment together.” He cleared his throat. “We got to talking about where we're going and all, and what we might do. They pointed out that, really, it didn't seem all that much different from home... uh... their home.... ma'am. And, if we went in more like Klingons, maybe our... uh... reception would be a bit different. Than, say, if we went in like...uh...”

“Starfleet.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Ensign Chase. Thank you for the input. We will take it into consideration.” Lieutenant Ro said. “Is there anything else?”

“Uh... well... it's kind of a private matter. They won't talk to you about it none, but I ...” Again he cleared his throat and managed to look a little more worked up. “They don't have names. I mean... They have names, but not last ones. I mean... Ma'am, my buddies. They don't have no House. And it ain't right. It ain't right at all. It's only because...” He paused and then rubbed his forehead, “You see?” Then he grimaced. “Now, I ain't saying how it ought to be, but ...”

“Ensign Chase.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“I never heard this. Understand?”

The Ensign came to attention. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Dismissed.”

“Yes. Lieutenant.” The man marched out, back straight, head high, pokerfaced.

Lieutenant Ro looked at Captain Janeway. “Fourth one this week.”

==^==

The House Presba on Voyager held a council. “Really, it's up to you, B'Elanna. You're Epatai. But there is a logic to it.”

“Starfleet is going to love us.”

“Well,” said Kathryn, “As many of you have pointed out to me in the past, Starfleet is far away from the Delta Quadrant.”

“But, as you've said, we are Starfleet here.”

“Have we not managed to do both?” Seven inquired. “We follow Starfleet protocol, with few exceptions. There are accommodations for Klingon crew in the manuals. And many of the original commissions have expired already. We could adapt, as we have before, and simply create something unique. Admiral Paris has been open to our... methods so far.”

“If I may point out, there are also those who are not Klingon who have expressed interest.”

“And, of course, a Klingon House is not just merely family. We discussed what might result when we made the decision. A Klingon House does include those who are tied by loyalty or other social structures. Warriors of the House Presba would have the benefit of the name as well as the responsibilities, but they do not necessarily have to be as intimate as we are. If we adopted a method from the Zakeeri, we would be the Prime Unit of the House Presba, while we created other subunits.”

“I need a day to think about it. I'd thought we might add to the House, but not so soon, or so many at a time.”

“We have plenty of days at the moment, B'Elanna. Take the time you need. But,” Kathryn said warmly, “come and settle in my arms for a moment. I've been longing to hold you since this morning.”

“Now that I can do right now.”

==^==

It was amazing what one could learn from a Klingon girl. For instance, she was a font of wisdom about Klingon traditions. She was also a veritable treasure trove of information about House Qua'lon, its attitudes, and its contacts. Auloh let them know that the family Qua'lon did not intend to let the House Presba gain much in the way of strength. They were going to hire assassins.

Of course, they had some time to prepare. House Qua'lon was keeping its nose clean for a bit. The Tulek incident had not exactly covered them in glory and had brought the eye of the Empire upon them.

The House Presba offered Auloh the option of joining their House.

“Even after what I did?”

“That was your uncle's doing. Do you intend us harm, Auloh? Have you vengeance on your mind?” Deanna asked. She already knew the answer, but knew Auloh needed to figure it out for herself.

Auloh considered the questions. “My uncle was not an honorable man. He was a blight on the honor of my family. My mother said so, before he killed her. No one stood up for her. When Tulek died, I hoped it would be different.” The girl, matured by the difficulties of her life, shook her head.

Deanna patted the girl's shoulder. “Think about it, Auloh. No one here will make you do what you do not wish to do.”

==^==

It was bound to happen at some point. The judgment came down to a challenge – of the accused to the judge. The accused could dispute the charges in many ways. In this case, the accused wanted to fight it out. Kald was confident he could win as he usually did.

Miral took up her Bat’leth and kissed her woman. Then she shed her robes and handed them to Gretchen and went down to the circle.

She faced a Klingon male of great proportion. Kald was muscular and overly tall. It was obvious that he relied on his great strength in battle. He was probably also quicker than he looked. He pounded his fist into his palm before taking the Bat’leth that someone loaned him. He didn't intend to rely on it. He growled at Miral, trying to scare her into submission.

He failed.

Miral could have asked one of her people to be champion. But after Asil... It just wasn't in her to lose another loved one or even just one of the guard. She would handle her own battles. She centered herself into a stance and waited for the signal to begin.

The big man charged before the call was made.

So that’s how it is going to be, the Judge thought. Miral whirled away from the blow, but still got hit by a massive fist in the side.

It hurt, and made her breathless, but she expected it. She was mentally timing the other fighter. He hadn't even lifted his Bat’leth, just carried it loose in his hand, like he expected to only have to use it at the end. She was fully prepared to take a few more hits, just to make sure he never had a chance to use it.

The man taunted. “Your Human. She's going to be mine.” He made commentary about what he was going to do to the slave, along with a rude gesture and laughed. He looked around like he expected the audience to laugh with him, but there was only a hungry grumble. The audience wasn't prepared to give him that kind of commitment yet. He would have to earn their appreciation.

Miral felt a low growl begin somewhere in her belly.

She remembered Gretchen's words during their battle before they entered this Universe and realized that she had, again, been unconsciously holding back. Her growl turned nastier, uglier and peculiarly frightening. A red haze formed in her vision. Her gaze narrowed specifically on him. She hefted the Bat’leth and waited for the overgrown Targ-ass to charge again, like she knew he would.

He roared at her and she stayed still until the end, and then moved lightning quick. When he stumbled away it was with her Bat’leth in his chest. His Bat’leth was now in her hand. He stared up at the startled audience, but only for as long as his head was on his shoulders, which was maybe a second or two. She cut it off on the turn around, emitting a terrifying howl in the process. While his head rolled towards the audience's feet, she took his Bat’leth and struck the ground with it until it stuck. Then she caught her own blade and tugged it out of his chest before the body hit the ground.

Carrying the bloody weapon in one hand, like she meant to slice anyone who got in her way, she went to her mate. She caught the Human into a one armed embrace and gave her the kind of kiss that operas are written about. When she pulled back, Gretchen's eyes were closed and she was barely standing on her own. Miral hefted her blade above her head and handed down the ruling.

No one argued.

In general, afterwards, the audience agreed that he probably shouldn't have taunted the judge about her mate.

==^==

The unfortunate side effect of that event was the slaves and belongings that were transported to her ship. Not only did the community pay, but they felt that Miral had won, in a most traditional way, the property of the deceased. Miral had taken one look at the raggedly dressed, huddled group of three females and said, “You remember what I said about servants?”

“Yes,” Gretchen acknowledged as she observed the women. She noticed, with some amount of prejudice that one of the bruised and beaten was green in skin and hair. Then she chastised herself. The woman had been a slave. She might be Orion, but she wasn't Syndicate. One of the other women was Vulcan, shorter than T'Pel and lighter skinned. Her face was terribly scarred. The other was a blue skinned Deian, whose extraordinary beauty was also brutally marred by cruel scars. Apparently their previous owner lived up to the Klingon reputation.

Just looking at the women made Miral want to stab and slice the PetaQ's head off again. Too bad he was dead.

As she stepped forward, the women pulled back unconsciously. It inspired an instinctive growl of disapproval on her part. “Stand up straight,” she barked. “You will look at me when I talk to you.”

The Vulcan was the first to respond and she straightened up tentatively. She then helped the others, pulling them from their crouch. Miral's gaze raked them up and down. “This will not do. You are now in a new House. The House Presba. Our slaves will not go dressed in rags. They will hold themselves up in pride of the House. They will defend the Honor of the House. Bow to others only as Honor requires. Our House follows tradition.”

She brought Gretchen forward. “This is my mate. You will obey her in all things. She is my hand and voice. Understood?”

They gave Miral shaky nods. The Klingon turned to Gretchen. “I apologize for dumping these creatures upon your shoulders, but I do not wish to deal with them unless I must. But they are ours now, to do with as we wish. I wish them to be worthy servants of the House. Therefore, I leave them in your care.”

Gretchen half bowed to Miral, “Mate, may I inquire about limitations? Do you wish the crew to have access?” She glanced meaningfully at the young Klingon males who guarded the transporter room at the moment. She could see their interest.

Miral observed Gretchen's subtle hint. It caused the Klingon to focus again on the slaves. She turned back to Gretchen. “No. They belong to us, not the crew. We run a trim ship here. I don't need them fighting among themselves for rights to my slaves. If they want that kind of fun, they will join another crew or enjoy themselves while on shore leave. It's not like we don't make plenty of port stops these days.”

“As you will, my mate.”

“Clean them up, find quarters for them. Find out if they have any skills and make them useful somehow. Inform them of our rules.”

“Yes, my mate.”

The judge gave a frustrated sigh. “See if Lwaxana will let T'Pel help.”

“Yes, my mate.”

Miral Torres of the House Presba exited the transporter room without looking back. Gretchen turned her attention to the women. Where to start?

==^==

Lwaxana didn't just have T'Pel help. She also chose to aid in getting these women adjusted to their new circumstances and healed, as much and as quickly as possible. The women had been terrified when they were led to the Medical Bay, but the Vulcan had stopped whimpering as soon as Lwaxana had touched her. Then she had gazed back and forth between T'Pel, Lwaxana, and Gretchen in amazement. Sometimes it was good to be a Telepath.

That was when she began to really believe that her circumstances had truly changed for the better. The Vulcan woman revealed her name as T'Sai. Then she introduced the Orion woman as Effany and the Deian as Nelav.

T'Pel led T'Sai to the bio-bed and helped her up on it. Lwaxana took up one of the healing tools. The women paled, but stayed brave. Gretchen began speaking to them.

“The House Presba welcomes you. We wish it were under better circumstances. Now, let me tell you what to expect and what we need from you.” Then Gretchen began to explain how the House Presba was running things in this Universe.

Later, as the Deian's scars were slowly removed by Lwaxana's careful application of the dermal regenerator, the Orion dared to ask a question. “You say you will take us with you, where we can be free?”

“Or we'll write papers for you and free you at a convenient location, which ever you prefer. Or, if you choose not to be free, you will be treated well and given a stipend that reflects the amount of your service, to spend as you will. If you cooperate, it will make our lives much easier. If not, we'll have to make... hard choices.” Gretchen paused and then grimaced. “And you should be aware, we have killed to gain this ship. We are able to make those hard choices. Do you understand?”

The Orion nodded shakily. “I think, though, I would take the risk with you.” She looked at the other women. “Can we... will you allow us to share a room? We have been our only comfort.”

Lwaxana snorted. “She means that they're mates.”

Gretchen shook her head at her daughter-in-law's frankness. And then said, “You may all share a room.” There was a communal sigh of relief. “You may also be free of worry from this crew. If any touch you against your will, you are to report it.”

There were skeptical looks. So Gretchen clarified. “Lwaxana is a Truth Seeker. She will know.”

They looked at the Betazoid in sudden horror. Lwaxana then gave Gretchen a sarcastic glance. “Thank you, Mother, for reminding them.”

Gretchen just shrugged. “I was only telling the truth. Besides, who knows what the future holds? If they act with honor they may find themselves named as part of this House. Better to set the standard now.” The slaves boggled and felt a bit liked they'd stepped into a new Universe.

==^==

Voyager finally felt more like herself. Her innards were no longer sticking out like the entrails of a stabbing victim. In fact she felt quite good, whole and strong. The nannites had worked with her to blend the adaptations into her systems and make them viable. They even made improvements, which she wasn't quite ready to talk with others about.

Stinging Sparrow had been a bastion of support during the whole time. Except for those occasions when she'd been called away from the system in order to run errands. But on the whole... Voyager was sure she wouldn't have made it without the constancy of her ... dare she think it? Her mate.

It was something she and Stinging Sparrow danced around.

But their affection for each other was as true as any Voyager had observed in her organic crew. Nor did she think her family, would deny the definition. Stinging Sparrow was family.

==^==

The ceremony was held in the open air of Voyager's Rest, and, yes, blood was involved. It was a Klingon ceremony.

B'Elanna Torres realized there was no going back when she stood up on the temporary stage. In front of her was an incredible group of people originating from distant points within the galaxy and they all had one purpose today. They intended to join her House.

All of the Klingons participated, as did all seven of the Kazon, several un-clanned Zakeeri who couldn't believe their good luck, several of the Kutwutchus – both those who joined as crew and those who joined as colonists -, several other beings who had interest in being part of the House, and a few other members of the Voyager crew who understood what joining her House meant and obligated, and wanted it anyway. There were the Wildmans, for instance, and Neelix, and Tal Celes, Jennifer and Megan Delaney, and Counselor Nael... Some of the people who were joining surprised B'Elanna, but maybe it shouldn't have. Obviously it wasn't everyone on the crew. But maybe a third of her old Maquis friends joined and a sixteenth of the rest of the crew, if one was looking at percentages. It was ... any way you counted... much more than she would have ever thought. And it reminded her that Voyager's crew was family and that family cared.

B'Elanna felt a bit of a shiver go across her shoulders and began to say the words. Knives sliced across palms and oaths of loyalty and commitment were spoken as if in one voice. House Presba gained a foothold in the Delta Quadrant that wasn't going to go away.

When the ceremony was over a celebration was held. It was the kind of event that went on for several days even as people finished up and finalized their projects. Fresh foods and plants for both Hydroponics and the Park were gathered. The plants included full grown, sizable trees for atmosphere. As the plants were transported into the ship by vehicle, no one noticed the small beings that made the leap into the treetops after the original scan.

Other supplies were also tucked in last minute, just in case.

The celebration included many features that pretty much ran through the days and nights. There was the cookout, which started right after the ceremony and ran the full time after. Then there were the games, softball, volleyball, hoop-stick, capture the flag and tons of others. It wasn't just the kids, of which there were quite a few, who played. The adults were in there playing just as hard. There were marathon holographic features for watching. The lake was filled with swimmers, divers, cannon-ballers... There were the dances, which seemed to start informally near the resort, but always ended up quite crowded by the end of the evening. People had worked so hard, so long that the playing naturally reflected that effort.

The party was still going strong when Voyager took flight and headed into the stars.

==^==

During the ship's adaptation, a station was created in Astrometrics with the specific purpose of identifying unusual universal or temporal anomalies and identifying ships at long range. Borg technology married with Zakeeri made for fascinating results. It was manned every day, every hour, by someone trained in identifying and distinguishing the readings. If the Orion Syndicate so much as poked its nose in nearby points to Voyager, they would at least snag the reading. If they stayed, they'd snag the ship.

Another station was created in Engineering. The scientists and engineers were cooperating in creating an interuniversal “transwarp/translator.” It was an ambitious and long term effort, possibly futile, but they were going to try it anyway. They would have stayed longer on the planet if they were going to do a complete transwarp overhaul. But they thought they could stop at another M-class planet if it came to that. If nothing else, the location saved a spot for whatever the Orion Syndicate was using. And if any good that came, it could be used in other ways too.

They had kept Starfleet apprised of their approaches to the problem and so far had the approval. As long as they shared some of the advances they made, Starfleet wasn't going to quibble. Besides, Starfleet needed help with the war. They loved what Voyager had done with... well... everything. And true, most federation ships wouldn't be able to absorb the armor, they could adapt it though. Even then, Voyager wasn't giving them everything. A girl had to have a few secrets.

“Damn, we wish you were here,” Admiral Paris said, “but maybe this is what we needed, someone far enough away that they had to make radical changes and take chances. You're better than a secret lab. They can't touch you. This could make the difference for us Kathryn. Keep it coming. And if we have something to share with you, we'll send it on. Our tech guys love you.”

Admiral Paris kept the Prime of House Presba in contact with their family in the Beta Quadrant. They shared their progress with each other and welcomed new members of the House with graciousness. The new names would be added to the Rosters.

“You're not going to make us enlist a whole lot of people here, are you Katie?” Phoebe had joked.

“Well not today, Pheebes. Maybe next time though.”

“Oh. Well, as long as you keep us posted.”

“On the other hand, seriously, if you need to, do it.”

“Don't fret sis. We're good here. Auloh tells us that House Qua'lon is somewhat occupied at the moment. Oh, and we had a very interesting visit from the House of Martok.”

“House of Martok?”

“Ever here of Ambassador Worf, Katie?”

“Oh my.”

“Yep. Seems he and Deanna have a history. He stopped by and made a very public announcement of alliance. Shockingly public, since his House has got a lot of political power, what with it being the House of the Chancellor and all. It'll be interesting to see what the fall out on that one is.” There was a pause. “I really wish Lwaxana was here, because she could have analyzed it in a heartbeat.”

Kathryn inhaled slowly. “I wish she and T'Pel were anywhere in this Universe, right at the moment. Well, almost anywhere.”

“Nope. You wish they were right there, with you, so you and your mates could...”

“Pheebes!!”

“Hah! Gotcha. I know it's not like that. Entirely. You forget we lived with them for awhile. They are some spicy ladies, let me tell you. We'll Lwaxana is, but we had to order sound proofing, if you know what I mean. Oh, look at you blush. But, honest Katie, I know you miss them.”

“Daily.”

“Yeah. And Mom. And Miral. I ... just wished we knew they were okay. You know? That other Universe... it sounds scary.”

“That's because it's an unknown. But that's what Starfleet deals with all the time, as I was reminded a few months ago. In a way, if we make it there with a ship, it will be a first. Normally people have stumbled there by accident. We've only got well... individual interpretations of data. Remember the early Mars years. They thought there wasn't life on Mars for years. But we'd only sent a few rovers in the beginning and they all landed in desert...”

“True.” Phoebe was about to continue and then glanced at the clock. “Damn. They're going to cut us off. Well, I better go. Love you, Sis. Pass it on.” In fingertalk she said, Come back to us.


	11. Chapter 11

“We can't offer you much,” the Dunkarian stated. “We are farmers here. But we have heard...” The man paled to a shade of opalescent pearl and shrunk down a bit as it summoned its courage to speak to the fierce looking Klingon Judge. “We have heard that you make your home upon a ship.”

“And is there something wrong with that? The Empire sends me where it wills. Do you disagree with the Empire's methods?” Miral questioned dangerously.

The Dunkarian raised his six fingered hands in horror. “No. Your Honor. Of course, not. It's just...” He cleared his throat. “We don't have much, but we could offer you land.”

“Land.” Miral shot a look at Gretchen. “What would I do with land?”

“Farm it?” the Dunkarian offered hopefully. “We are good farmers. And good negotiators. We could offer our services.”

“No slaves.”

“I'm sorry?”

“On my farm there will be no slaves, except for the ones I may bring. Contract services only. I will provide a contact for you to arrange the finances.” The Dunkarian blinked and nodded. Miral growled. “And I want a house built. Something modest. No extravagant crap. Well, not too much anyway. A pool might be nice. Holodeck. Room for kids. Make it a place of refuge, you understand?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

“Mate?” Miral did not look at the woman by her side. “Does this meet with your approval?”

“If you wish it,” Gretchen said.

Miral growled lightly at the tease. “I wish for your happiness. Does it meet with your approval?”

“Yes, mate. It does.”

The Klingon glared at the quivering, amazed Dunkarian. “Then make it so.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

There was a pause. “Well.” Miral spoke impatiently. “Take me to your Judgment Hall.”

“Oh. Right. Please follow me.”

==^==

“Seven, do you have a moment?” B'Elanna started talking as she entered Astrometrics.

“Certainly. How may I assist you?” The blonde nodded to Megan Delaney and turned to address her mate.

B'Elanna waved the PADD in her hand. “These equations are driving me up the wall. I know I'm missing something, but what? You mind taking a look at them for me?”

“Of course,” Seven extended her hand for the PADD.

B'Elanna held it just out of reach. “I mean, would you mind looking at them with me?” There was a touch of silk and danger to the question.

Megan Delaney suddenly felt the need to be elsewhere in the department. She retreated a safe distance.

Seven of Nine narrowed her gaze. Then, very deliberately she inhaled.

A few seconds later, the ocular implant had risen to new heights. “B'Elanna Torres...”

“Please.”

Seven of Nine pursed her lips and considered. “Ensign Delaney, Lieutenant Torres and I will be ... solving her equation in my office. Please divert calls for the next hour, unless it is an emergency.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

The ex-drone looked regally at her Klingon. “If you will follow me?”

B'Elanna managed not to growl hungrily. She just gruffed, “Lead on.”

As soon as the door swished shut behind them, Seven of Nine was pressed up against the wall. She caught her mate's hands before she could rip the cloth. “B'Elanna, please. Let me.”

“Hurry.”

Seven of Nine began stripping, quickly. She felt B'Elanna's urgency, but it was not the total family flame that sometimes took them over. It was...simple desire. For her.

That was a complete turn on.

Seven felt her own desire expand, especially once B'Elanna began stripping herself. Again the Borg stilled her lover's hands. “Let me. You'll rip it off otherwise.”

B'Elanna growled hungrily, but let Seven help her out of her clothes. She looked around herself. “You don't have a desk. How am I supposed to take you on a desk if...”

“Next time have me come to you.”

“Right. Right.”

“I take it you were fantasizing about me?”

“I was...” Seven kissed B'Elanna abruptly as she finished tugging off the Klingon's shirt. “...working in the Jeffries Tube on deck eight and suddenly all I could think of was you. How you used to make me crazy by just showing up and tweaking things. I remember how you used to bother me almost every day. How sexy you were then and I hadn't known it. Then I realized... I missed it.”

“You missed it?” Seven yanked B'Elanna's trousers off and then folded them, before placing them on the chair where she was stacking her Klingon's clothes.

“I did. I do. I couldn't believe it. I think it's because I saw you more often then.”

“That is perhaps true. I would often find a problem so I could find ways to see you. Now that I see you daily, I feel secure in knowing that I will see you at another time.”

“You did that on purpose? Just to see me?”

“Did you not invent an equation, just so you could see me?”

“I... yes. I did,” B'Elanna answered

Seven of Nine knelt and trailed her hands sexily down the Klingon's torso, her buttocks and legs, until she was pulling off B'Elanna's boots and socks. She set those aside, and remained kneeling. It was a perfect height. She grinned ferally and B'Elanna realized that Seven was only half undressed, but somehow she had become completely undressed. “Hey...”

Before she could protest any further, the ex-drone said, “Then, Yes. I did.” Then she leaned forward and clasped B'Elanna in such a way that her legs were up over the blonde's shoulders. Suddenly the Klingon realized she was up against the wall and Seven of Nine was doing things with her tongue to B'Elanna's erotic center that would strip the words right out of a person's consciousness.

“Oh!” Then, she realized that she had been very worked up, since the wetness had already been there. Which is probably why...

“Oh!!!”

B'Elanna couldn't help the rocking movement. She had two choices about where her hands could be and she found herself pressing against the wall with her hands, so she could push against the Borg with her hips. Her eyes closed and she gasped in true pleasure as Seven purred while she drank and dipped in her mate.

Seven continued what she was doing, and even seemed to advance the method, which was more than fine. B'Elanna's fingertips pressed into the wall. There was a slight sound of metal stressing under the pressure. There would be marks on the wall. The Klingon's eyes closed and she felt the spring of desire in her gather for the great leap. And then the moment was on her and she called out Seven's name as she came with smolderingly delightful intensity.

She wasn't quite sure how she arrived at the point of reclining in Seven of Nine's arms on the office couch, but she knew she felt wonderful. She smiled at her mate.

Seven smiled back as she trailed her cybernetic hand along her mate's beautiful belly. “I will be sure to bother you more often in the future, B'Elanna. I will also be sure to provide you with better puzzles so you may do the same for me.”

“That would be a good thing.”

==^==

The Estate of the House Presba was graced by the presence of Worf of the House Martok once again. “Nice to see you, buddy,” said Phoebe irreverently as she took his jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall. “Deanna was just saying how much...”

“Pheebes!”

The artist grinned at the shout down the hall. “Come on big guy, Deanna doesn't want me revealing her secrets and Auloh wants to show you her progress.”

Worf, who was used to the exuberant Human by now, merely shook his head. As he walked down the hall he paused to look at the walls. “These paintings...”

“Klingon heroes. I'm doing a series. They're not done yet.”

“They are...”

“Okay, I guess. I'm still… There's still some work to be done on them, I think.” Phoebe grimaced in frustration. “The series is a work in progress. But I'm practicing 'hanging the painting.' It was a suggestion from an art teacher long ago. She said sometimes you needed to live with an image for awhile so you could figure out what needed to be fixed or realize that they're good as they are...”

“Fixed?” Worf said in wonder. “These are... quite good.”

“Maybe.” Phoebe shrugged. Then she smiled again. “But hey, we're not here to talk about me. Come on. Food awaits.”

They met in the dining area. The table was largish, more in hope than in necessity. They all took places towards one side of the dining surface and served themselves. “So,” said Deanna, “What brings you here Worf? I'd have thought you were going out to the Front.”

“I did go back. Fought a great battle too.” Auloh looked instantly interested. “I will share the story later.”

Auloh deflated a bit, but ate her food without comment. At least she was at the table. Barin was already in bed. But then, he was four.

Worf continued, “I am here by request.”

The three women looked at each other. “What is it?”

“Klingon tradition can be a very good thing. Our rituals lead to strength of will and purpose. Our goals make for a strong Empire. But we have a failing.”

Again there was a glance passed between the women. They didn't say anything, since they knew how hard it must be for Worf to say such a thing about his beloved race.

He bit into a leg of beast and chewed contemplatively for a moment. Then, when he felt less like punching something, he spoke. “The War with the Dominion has called many warriors to Sto-vo-kor. These warriors sometimes leave behind family, but once the adults are gone, these family members have no one to speak for them. The Empire offers a place, once a certain age is reached, if the family members survive ....”

“You're talking about War Orphans,” Asil said. “I have read of this. The children lose their House, but there is not... a real state infrastructure to take care of them. Nor do Houses open their arms willingly, either for fiscal reasons or social. One would think the Great Houses would be scooping the children up, because man power is valuable. But...”

“They do not. They fear for their bloodlines, forgetting that a Klingon is a Klingon...” He spat his opinion to the side. Then he looked at the three women. “It has been noted that new names have been added to the Hall of Records. These names hail from the Delta Quadrant. The... person... who spoke to me is gratified to see such a small house take such brave, large steps. He was also pleased by the number of Klingons who have become part of the House. He... had been growing concerned that there were so many...”

Deanna gave him a quirky grin. “Aliens...”

“Ahem, well, they are Klingon now. You,” he looked directly at Deanna for emphasis, “... are now Klingon.”

Deanna smiled. “Who would have thought...”

“But still,” prompted Phoebe.

“Still. The person I spoke with, would like to see more bloodline Klingons as part of this House, to insure that Presba continues. He noted an overabundance of females. That has been corrected somewhat in the Delta Quadrant as far as subunits are concerned. But in both the Delta and Beta Quadrant the females in the Prime and Beta of the House Presba outnumber the one, single male.”

Phoebe choked on her drink a little, maybe even blushed.

Deanna spoke “But... this person... he doesn't know what our goals are. What if we intended to remain smallish? There are reasons we have not yet expanded; reasons of Honor. And there are historical incidences of matriarchal Houses. It is not unusual.”

“Certain issues of Honor can be addressed later, if the members of the other House survives being put at the very front of the Front.” The women's eyes widened. Worf ate a bit more meat and then continued. “And the person is fine with matriarchy so long as there are also children, male and female, of the Prime of the House. He wants you to have heirs of the body, soon.”

After Phoebe choked and coughed a second time, she decided that she was done with the meal for a moment. “Well, we'll be sure and let this person know when one of us gets knocked up. It's not likely any time soon though. I don't know about these ladies, but I don't even have a boyfriend at the moment. Plus, uh not to be too personal at the dinner table, but my implant expires in a year.”

Auloh was listening to this with wide open ears and tried to make herself invisible at the table, lest they dis-invite her from this fascinating adult discussion.

Worf grimaced and then took a long drink of blood wine. When he was done, he continued. “The person understands if you are not immediately able to accomplish his wishes in this matter. But he does want it addressed within a reasonable amount of time. He reminds you that you can expand the House in other ways in the meantime. He notes your progress with the Estate, and that you already have a certain accumulation of properties and businesses elsewhere. He was pleased to note that your House has people of status in the Prime unit. He wishes that to continue.” Worf looked meaningfully at the women. “It would be good, say, if Phoebe's new series were finished and displayed in public sooner, rather than later.”

“Whoa, no pressure there at all. Boy I am glad about that.” Phoebe rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I thought Klingons understood artists.”

“We do,” rumbled Worf, “But your images would serve the Empire at a time of need. I can wait a few days for you to fix them...”

“Oh God in Heaven.”

“Can it not be done?”

“Of course it can be done,” Phoebe groused. “I've operated under an unexpected deadline before. I just...” She waved her hand... “We're off track anyway. Sorry, continue Worf.”

The Klingon nodded. “In a similar vein, the person of whom I speak is expecting you to be invited to attend certain functions. He wishes you, a small, growing House to be seen and plans to use your visibility to his advantage. He wants to remind Klingons of their fundamental opportunity.”

Deanna interpreted. “If House Presba can do it...”

“Yes. Exactly. Which brings me back to the War Orphans. If House Presba can do it...”

Deanna was nodding her understanding. “But Worf, we couldn't take them all...”

“He doesn't intend you to take them all. That obligation should not weigh on a small, growing House anyway. On the other hand, you should know the person indicated that he would be most displeased if his generous offer of anonymous financial contribution for schools and housing for the Children of House Presba was ignored.”

“Oh... dear.”

Asil spoke, “Is this something that we must decide, or may we confirm with our Epatai.”

Worf glanced at Asil and picked up another leg of beast. “It was understood that you spoke for your Epatai.”

Asil glanced at the other women. “I do. We will have our answer by the time you leave.”

“Good,” Worf nodded. “That will please the person immensely. He likes decisiveness.”

==^==

Naomi Wildman of the House Presba decided to visit her mother in the Park. It was growing close to the grand opening, at last. Plants and trees from a variety of worlds had been used. Certain controllable pollination agents, also known as insects, had also been installed. Butterfly-like creatures fluttered during the day and firefly-type creatures flashed during the nocturnal setting. The “day,” was set to ship's time. Strategically placed holographic units made sky. The lake was real, with a special stasis field to keep the water 'in,” where it should be. The plants and the ground were real too. There were small buildings and play units in the park. Shady places, and light places, sandy places and soft green places, and flowers.

She really liked the park

There were also animals, though most the crew hadn't really registered it yet. They thought they were holographic. Certainly that was Naomi's assumption.

Voyager, on the other hand, was aware of their existence, but had not brought it to the attention of the adult crew. She considered that the creatures had earned their place in the ship's ecosystem. Most of the small critters were Ubiyakian, and not dangerous at all. But they served a purpose for amusement and food, for the Voyager's Rest creatures, which had also found themselves displaced onto the ship.

That was one of the hazards of transplanting. You couldn't account for everything. On the plus side, the Ubiyakian creatures were specifically designed to find an ecologically friendly state, adapt, and stay there. They made up most of the fish, fowl and furry component in the park anyway. The Voyager's Rest creatures were furry, multi-limbed and handed and omnivorous. They were also tiny and unobtrusive. They hid in the trees and watched with wide, curious eyes while the crew worked. There were not too many of them at this point, but Voyager monitored them.

True, the captain might not take it well, since – apparently – they had accidentally kidnapped some beings. But Voyager hadn't known about them when they left and had discovered them only by accident sometime when they were long gone from the planet. What, were they going to turn around and return them to Voyager's Rest? Unlikely. There was no point in upsetting anyone.

The creatures were obviously intelligent and apparently made their homes in the hollows of the trees or other likely spaces. They used tools, but their tools appeared to be primitive at the moment. That might be a result of their displacement though, since they displayed other more advanced kinds of intelligence. She knew one or two of them had gone exploring the ship, but had returned to the Ship's Park within hours and stayed there afterwards. Certainly they seemed to be aware of their change in status and location and they had adapted accordingly. It was possible, from a certain perspective, that they might think the Park had been created for them.

On this particular fateful day, Naomi Wildman was walking on one of the clearly designated Park Pathways when one of the Ubiyakian furred creatures flashed past her, followed by an oblivious 46 or so centimeter high being waving a tiny spear. The being had made several steps past, and then turned in horror to look at the young girl. It had placed one of its tiny hands on its mouth in consternation. Its long tail had flexed down protectively over its buttocks, and then wrapped around its waist, tip flexing in consternation.

There was an eternity of pause and Naomi, who was aware that this was a special circumstance, knew she had some serious decision making to do. She lowered herself to the ground, never taking her eyes off of the creature and sat down. Now it was the creature's turn to decide what to do.

It looked around as if determining distance and flight possibilities. Then it looked at the girl, who waited patiently.

It reached some sort of decision.

Naomi was relieved when the creature laid its spear on the ground and then walked forward, all four palms out and cautious.

“Hello,” she greeted.

The creature cocked its ear. Then repeated the word. “Hello.”

“Do you need a translator?”

“Hello.”

“Naomi Wildman to Voyager.”

“Voyager here, Naomi.”

“Could you please transport a comm badge to my location?”

“Certainly Naomi.”

A comm badge appeared at Naomi's feet. The creature's eyes widened a bit, but probably not as much as it would have months ago. Naomi picked up the metallic object and extended it towards the small being. It didn't really have a place to put it, except maybe on its belt. But the communicator would work in its hands just as well.

“Hello,” the young Katarian spoke. “My name is Naomi Wildman of the House Presba.”

The creature gripped the comm badge with two hands, tight to its chest. “I am Nahuel... of the House Presba.”

==^==

“They took the Oath...” repeated B'Elanna in wonder. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was shading strongly to the laugh side of things, but didn't dare, since the serious looking Ylfians were watching their Epatai with some great trepidation. She had to set a good example, didn't she?

Captain Janeway had been shocked and a bit flustered, but these days she was feeling oddly philosophical. After all, why not? Why not add tiny furred spear-chuckers to the family? They were obviously warriors. Small. But strong hearted. She wasn't going to tell them they couldn't be Klingon. But she thought she heard the Prime Directive just whooshing right out one of Voyager's port windows, screaming.

B'Elanna looked at her captain. “Well, Captain Janeway, are you going to let them stay on the ship?”

“I'm thinking.”

==^==

In the end, she realized she couldn't hold their size against them. It was decided that the Ylfians of the House Presba could stay, but they had to pull their weight and be crew, following ships protocol like everyone else. They were to begin training, could join any department once the training was complete, and they would have to take quarters outside of the Park, which was a public space or would be as soon as soon as the grand opening was held. They could adapt the quarters any way they needed, so long as it didn't violate Starfleet protocol.

The Ylfians were enthusiastic and grateful. Ten of them could fit into one standard set of quarters easy. They were given three to work with, just to be on the safe side.

==^==

One other consequence of this event was that Janeway insisted that the Park be opened, sooner rather than later.

So, three days later, a celebration was held and Kathryn finally saw her ship's park.

“Oh. It's beautiful. It's phenomenal.” she could see why the Ylfians had stayed in the Park. It felt... right. Grounded. She realized suddenly that the air had smelled fresher in Voyager and now understood why. The crew beamed at her, pleased by her overwhelmed reaction and Samantha Wildman offered to guide the Captain around, while the Bar-b-que got into full swing.

Now that they knew that Ubiyakian creatures were on board, they were included in the tour.

“We've got a couple of running trails, set at different distances. Commander Tucker insisted that it would be useful for her Marines. But we just thought it was a good idea for variety. We've made options for both public and private park experiences. We really wanted someplace that would act as an escape.

A shadow passed overhead and Janeway looked up. There were clouds. “Oh. We've got it set to create weather, because, you know, we have to water the plants anyway. Thought we'd spice it up a bit.”

“A whimsical touch. So are we to expect rain at the picnic?”

“Only if Voyager is feeling funny.”

“Janeway to Voyager.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“No rain in the park during the celebration.”

“Yes, Captain.” Kathryn gave Samantha an explanation. “Voyager has been experimenting with humor lately. She and Singing Sparrow have been keeping company with the Joking Trio.”

“Oh.” That was all the information Samantha needed. Commander Magnum, Lieutenant Paris and Lieutenant Kim had found qualities to admire in one another. Where Chakotay might have been a moderating influence, Commander Magnum only enhanced the debonair and prankster quality of his new lovers. They had become somewhat notorious on Voyager's Rest and at Ubiyak Port.

Kathryn flashed back to one particular incident involving pies and chairs at the Long Table that had become somewhat of a favorite story among the crew. The Joking Trio had used transporters and a month worth of combined rations to randomly set the pies in the chairs of the victims. She still remembered striking her finger through the strawberry filling on Seven's buttocks after that first sit down. It had been delicious and worth the look afterwards.

Samantha brought her back to the present while they visited the lake with a bit of commentary about the Ubiyakian wildlife in the lake. Kathryn skipped a stone across its surface. “One nice thing, now we can fish.” She smiled at Samantha's shocked expression. “Catch and Release only, of course.”

The xenobiologist grinned at the tease.

Samantha then said, “Of course.” Then she inhaled and said from a space of practicality, “Although, if it came to it, they are compatible and they keep a stable ecosystem once they adapt. So they can't be fished out. Or hunted out. They're rather remarkable adaptations. Hopefully, once they get over the Yilfian's hunting them, they'll start coming out for more contact with people. That's part of what will make the Park experience fun. According to the Ubiyakans, they do recover quickly from such things. Apparently they had times in the station when they were surviving off their gardens and the park. So, it's not like it hasn't happened to these critters before.”

“Amazing.” Kathryn was sincere in that thought. She smiled wryly. “I feel terrible for saying it, but I'm hungry. Shall we go see what is cooking?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Lieutenant Wildman, you and the crew did an outstanding job.”

“Thank you, Captain.

==^==

The problem with being a Truth Seeker is that at some point you might have to prove that you are one. The other problem was, Lwaxana now knew she could and would kill if it was required. She was faced with a choice, play the role and carry out what must come or....

There was no other choice. She must do something. But there was no law about the method. There she had many choices.

She raised her hand and pointed in the accuser's direction.

The Klingon had been talking and suddenly, even though his mouth was opening and closing as if conveying words, he had ceased to speak. He clasped his throat at first, confused. Then when he raised his eyes, he saw the Betazoid's stern, uncompromising expression.

The judge's gaze also made the connection between point and person. Lwaxana made a small sign with the hand that was not pointing. Miral gripped the pommel of her Bat’leth and yanked it out of the floor. The judge stood up, glowering. “Beq of House Setash, have you been lying to me?”

The Klingon began shaking his head and pointed right back at the Betazoid.

“Oh. Now you expect me to believe a Truth Seeker is at fault?” Miral stepped down from the dais and walked with purpose towards the accuser's position. “That makes at least two lies. In my court. Unacceptable.”

Beq of Setash reached for his dk-tahg and yanked it from its sheath. He began backing away.

“The circle is that way, Beq.” The audience was absolutely silent, riveted by the scene playing out.

He suddenly reversed direction, making a swing at Miral though she was nowhere near him. Then he cried out, stumbled, and gasped out in horror.

His dagger had turned in his hand, facing his chest. With one hand he grasped the wrist of the other. One hand was pushing against the other, vying to keep the dagger from implanting itself in his body. His eyes widened in dread and he looked at the Betazoid, whose expression had not changed. But now, the Vulcan was touching two fingers to two fingers with her. Suddenly his voice was returned. “No. No. Let me die with Honor.”

“Honor, Liar?” Miral ground out.

“Please. I...”

“Go to the circle, Beq. Or die by your own hand.” Miral commanded.

The Klingon staggered, still fighting with himself all the way, until he was inside of the battle circle. Then, abruptly, he was free. He shuddered a breath, shook his head as if to clear it, and took a stance.

Miral shucked her robes, handed them to Gretchen and kissed her like it might be her last one. Then she too made her way to the circle. She set her Bat’leth in the ground, just inside the ring. Then pulled her dk-tahg. “Now, let's see whether it is a good idea to bring a lie to my court, shall we?”

Beq ran at her with a roar. They met at the center, and once again he slashed at her widely, setting parameters, or at least trying to. Then she was inside his space. One moment out, one moment in, quicker than he could blink. He didn't even realize he'd been struck, until he saw that his knife arm was up above him in her strong grip and he was buckling down. And she struck again, piercing his second heart and yanking it up through his latticed ribcage as if it were nothing. By the time he hit the ground his eyes were closing and his breath fading.

Miral stepped back, lavender blood dripping from the knife in her hand and splattered all over her, and glared out at the peculiarly silent audience. In a frighteningly normal tone she said, “It is not a good idea to lie in my court.”


	12. Chapter 12

Deanna stood on the balcony of her room, which was situated on the second floor of their home. The morning air was sweet and pleasant against the skin. She contemplated her latest communication with Will. Again it had not gone well and she dreaded where things appeared to be headed, but she could not think of a reasonable way out. She had offered to return home, if that was what it took.

He had told her not to bother.

She had already cried her tears over that, and probably would cry more.

But she couldn't begrudge him his attitude. She had changed, and most visibly. But the core of who she was had remained the same. She was Deanna Troi.

'...Of the House Presba,' her mind finished for her.

Well, maybe it was a fundamental change after all. Technically, she could go after Will with a knife, all for House honor. He was, after all, stepping out on her.

And him... acting as if she didn't know the signs by now.

She growled lightly, and startled herself. Then, she laughed. She kept forgetting that she could do that.

Will had not ever heard her make a noise like that. And, if he was lucky, he never would.

Perhaps it was time to do the paperwork and just open the door to other things.

A white bird fluttered beautifully into view, then away and Deanna Troi of the House Presba went back inside.

==^==

Phoebe wrapped and packed fifteen paintings. She still didn't know if they were done or not, but Ambassador Worf had places to go, people to see, wars to fight. So she'd chosen to go with simple frames, but didn't know if it would remain that way wherever Worf was taking them. She just didn't have time to evaluate the paintings for anything more ornate. And she could use the materials at hand, if she just went basic.

She'd used a local wood, a natural black without stain. It sanded well, and the glossy clear made the wood shine. She thought she might use it for a carving or two later.

When she was done she contacted Worf on his ship and then watched them sparkle away.

==^==

Asil signed the PADD and handed it back to the Ambassador. Worf didn't exactly smile, but he managed to look pleased. The Vulcan who was Klingon bowed in a technically perfect manner and as she returned to the upright position lifted her hand and gave the salute. “Live Long and Prosper, Ambassador Worf.”

“Quapla! Asil. May Your House Prosper.”

Then she was transported back down to the Estate to return to her work there.

==^==

The Ylfians adapted quickly to ship life. Of course, they'd lived on Ubiyak's space port for nearly as long as it had existed, so they knew and understood technology. They took to the Starfleet training like ducks to a pond. Like the Zakeeri, they loved the easy and free access to knowledge. Like the Klingons they followed a warrior path. Like Starfleet, they believed in freedom and the right to pursue happiness.

It turned out that Ylfians had knacks like everyone else. Some were very good at engineering. Some were warriors to the bone. Some were good at Science. Some were good in Supply and Acquisition. Given that there were plenty of niches to be filled, they were soon scattered about the ship doing rotations in their chosen departments.

It took the rest of the crew a little longer to adapt to the Ylfians.

The Ylfians were small, agile, and prone to leaping to surprising heights. They used their tail like a fifth hand, moved quickly, and could be seen zipping from lesson, duty or recreation in packs of five or ten. They could careen from wall to wall like billiard balls, bounding off of the flat surfaces and sometimes each other. A crew person or group of crew persons would be walking along and a mob of Ylfians, somehow occupying space from floor to ceiling, would pass by them like a furry, rapidly conversing wind – all without so much as ruffling anyone's hair, which meant that somehow there were no smash ups. But then, Ylfians had long ago learned how to navigate space and avoid getting stepped on.

The Ylfians adapted the three crew quarters, with engineering's help, by getting rid of the walls between the quarters and creating shelf-like mini-abodes around a good portion of the perimeter. When Captain Janeway first saw them, she was reminded of small caves or bird houses. There were no stairs to those living spaces, but there were points of grasping, like stone climbers or tree-climbers might use. There was a central area for guests and gathering, a space assigned for study and quiet with sonic shielding, and a few larger shelves for equipment and other storage. They kept all three refresher rooms, but changed them for Ylfian purposes. One became a communal pool. The rest of the abode was changed in small ways, such as at least one replicator being set at their height and tiny desks with holo consoles instead of plexi consoles. The abode lacked chairs, but made up for it in large pillows. So non-Ylfian visitors learned to sit on those or stack them for their comfort. They also learned to ignore the flitting by of Ylfians not involved in conversations on their way to somewhere else.

In the Mess Hall, Ylfians joined the Long Table by using bar chairs. They also introduced communal dishes, when they were there en mass, which anyone could enjoy while it was available. The dishes were filled with a variety of hand friendly foods, such as grapes, chips, crunchy vegetables and breaded meat strips and dips. It was a bit disorderly at first, since it took awhile for Ylfians to understand that table manners meant no walking on the tables to get their food. So they then asked for an adaptation which would allow them to hover over it so they could fill their plates and then sit around the table like the rest of the crew. The adaptation worked almost too well. Some Ylfians took to just sitting on the shelf above the table and would dip down, grab their meal and then keep on carrying on their conversation with whomever.

The Klingons thought it was all a hoot and a half because, for once, they weren't the barbarians at the table. The Zakeeri loved it because there were people who were smaller than they were and the Ylfians kind of reminded them of themselves. The Kazon tried to follow the Klingon example of patience in the face of humor, and – oddly – were succeeding. The Kutwutchu and Ylfians somehow found their own balance as Ylfians took to using them and a few of the taller (willing) members of Voyager's crew as convenient walking trees – while in conversation, that is.

Departments made adaptations as necessary. Most didn't have to. Ylfians had ways of accommodating themselves efficiently. It really depended on what they might be called to do. A Ylfian engineer could get places that many could not. They loved Jeffries tubes and those practically became their personal walkways behind the scenes. They could literally stand on control consoles and make their changes.

Those Ylfians who were warriors found their way into security or into Sarah Tucker's realm. She had a heck of a time coming up with suitable training, but she delved into every manual she could find and – again – relied on others' expertise to come up with wicked ways of transforming the Ylfians into real Marines. They could not use real ground like Voyager's Rest, but they did use the holograph copy of the location and she liberally accessed Voyager's Park. So she did manage and eventually there were more Marines of surprising stature.

The trick would be figuring out how best to use them now that they had them.

After that, the sight of Ylfians being carried on broad shouldered Klingons, Kazons, certain Starfleet officers or even some Zakeeri became somewhat common. It wasn't that these Ylfian's weren't capable of traveling on their own. It was part of the training to get them all working together towards a common goal.

This also meant that Ylfians now carried more advanced weaponry, sized to their hands.

The captain wondered if she should be worried, then decided that she either trusted the Commander to do her job or not. So far the woman had been doing admirable work. The captain, however, was thinking that she was going to have to take time for observation fairly soon. She was just having difficulty imagining how it was all working.

There were a few bobbles in communication. Ylfians had never been assimilated. Young people don't always know how to treat beings that look like four armed pets. Azan and Rebi were once seen carting around surprised Ylfians by physically lifting and wrapping their arms around them like squeeze toys.

That had stopped when an ensign caught the silent “help me,” look sent to anyone, just anyone, who would come to their rescue. Ironically, it was the very same ensign who'd been smacked a good one by Xepal when she first boarded the ship. Young Jeanie Wiesenger had learned the lesson well and she understood the Ylfian's dilemma. Though it kind of amused her to wonder how long the small creatures had been bearing with it.

The Ylfians wouldn't have complained, since Azan and Rebi were the Captain's kids. The ensign took time to explain to the boys that the Ylfians were perfectly capable of traveling to and from locations on their own and that Azan and Rebi were treating them as toys or pets just because they were small.

The boys had been quite abashed, since that hadn't been their intent at all. They really had meant to help.

Fortunately, Ylfians were forgiving. They were later seen in the company of the younglings of the ship, who found them vastly interesting. Of course, there were more younglings on the ship than there had been previously. The Kutwutchu who'd joined the ship had families and so did the Ylfians. A few of the original crew were well on their way to adding to the mix with their own bundles of joy. It turned out that the elegant Kutwutchu were great teachers, if somewhat unorthodox from a standard Starfleet view.

With the help of a certain Borg, a real curriculum was established. They had yet to name the department, because Kathryn couldn't think of anything good enough for what was going on, but youngsters (of several sizes) could be seen tagging along behind their serene Kutwutchu instructors during the mid-morning part of the Alpha Shift. Then the games would begin, as the kids made their way to the Holodecks for more physical kinds of learning experiences – again accompanied by the tall, steady beings.

Captain Janeway never thought she'd see the day that she was Captain of a Generational ship. But for some reason, it all worked.

==^==

One day Captain Janeway decided to visit Astrometrics.

She was really stopping by to see Seven and say hi to Azan and Rebi, who liked to hang out in the lab while the Delaney twins were there. Kathryn could understand why.

The door swished open and the captain stepped in with a smile at the immediate greetings from her mate and children. As usual, they hadn't even looked first. But at least they reached out afterwards. Azan and Rebi stepped close for a hug and she spoke with them briefly to find out what they were doing with their time. When they were done they went back to watching over the shoulder of one of the twins at the new temporal station.

They were, after all, invested in finding their other mothers and Borg were patient and persistent.

Seven of Nine watched the encounter with affection, and when embraced by Kathryn, returned it in full. “Anything to report,” the smaller woman asked.

“Nothing unusual or new at this point. It has been quiet.”

“Hmm.” The captain sighed. “It's like watching a pot boil.”

“Pardon?”

“An expression based on cooking. It means, while you're looking it seems to take forever or nothing happens.”

“Ah. Yes. It is applicable, I suppose.”

“You know I haven't seen your new office, yet.”

“Do you wish to get me alone Kathryn?”

The captain flushed delicately, but was also amused. “I suppose that would be my motivation, yes.”

Seven of Nine shut down her console. “Please, follow me. Ensigns Delaney, you are on post.”

“Aye, Seven,” they said in unison.

“Really, Seven, you ought to let me give you a rank.”

“No.”

“But...”

“No. I will wear the blue uniform for you, but I am not prepared to make the commitment to a rank and its obligations.”

“Stubborn Borg.”

“Yes. But I am yours.”

“Well. There is that.” By that time they were in the office. Kathryn turned in Seven's arms. “Kiss me and make remember what is important.”

Seven of Nine most certainly did.

==^==

The kiss was making wonderful, rapid progress when Seven of Nine was hailed. “Boss, you better get out here. We got a ping.”

Kathryn and Seven looked at one another, and then rapidly put their tops and jackets back on.

==^==

It was more than a ping. It was a bright, beautiful solid indication. It bloomed on the screen and then stayed. It seemed as if the Orion Syndicate vessel might be experiencing a bit of engine trouble. The problem was they were light years away. The good news was they were within less than a day's reach. If Voyager hurried, they might catch them. Kathryn Janeway looked at the view screen and then at Seven of Nine and growled. “I want that ship.”

Then, she tapped her comm badge, contacted Chakotay and began giving orders.

==^==

Lwaxana pointed it out, but they had all noticed the stranger at approximately the same time. The Klingon had been present at several of the recent trials, watching them less like a spectator and more like an observer. She had sensed no hostility from him, but that was just on a surface level. Unless she dug deeper, which she was loathe to do, the only other indicator was that he was a mixture of pleased and curious about them.

Of note was that he was apparently a person of rank and accompanied by guards of his own. Also, his ship had been following theirs since he had begun attending the trials. It was a much bigger vessel and well armed.

The women debated whether to approach him about it, but Miral eventually stated that she didn't care who watched or who followed. If he wasn't a danger, then he could do what he wanted. They would continue in their path, regardless, and stay focused. If he wanted to talk to them, he'd just have to make the effort himself.

So it was that they and the other ship arrived at another planet at approximately the same time.

==^==

The Judgment Hall was packed, though the trial was only a moderately interesting case. But, that was also a phenomenon of late. Word of the House Presba's judicial style had spread. As before, the official looking person was stationed towards the front with his guard. But then several wealthy and important people were similarly located.

Miral and her family entered and took up their usual places. Once Miral sat down, silence descended upon the court. Miral gave her usual introduction and then started the proceedings. “Bring in the Accused.”

==^==

An hour later, a stunned looking Trill was looking at the bloody Bat’leth in their hand and hearing the Judge proclaim that Honor was restored. A Klingon warrior lay dead on the ground. Miral Torres said, “Jemor of Trill, you are free. But I caution you, I do not want to see you in my court again. If I do, you will not live through the experience.”

The Trill bowed shakily. “Yes, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor.” He laid the Bat’leth on the ground and then bowed again in the direction of the court. Then, with quivering dignity, he walked out past the cheering audience. As he exited, the audience began to follow, offering to buy the astonished Trill drinks.

Miral shook her head and set the gavel to the side. She freed her Bat’leth and stood, offering her hand to Gretchen.

As her mate was standing, she noticed that the official looking Klingon was making his way to the Judgment seat. He was tall, with broad shoulders and long dark hair and a piercing gaze. He bowed. “Your Honor, I am General Martok. The Empire needs you.”

==^==

It is bad when the engine of a Starship goes down in the deep dark of space. If one is fortunate and life support is attached to a different energy source, then one has options. If not, it gets very cold, very quickly.

In the case of the OSS Lucky Dragon, they had two power systems and an auxiliary component that attached to the Warp Engine. The reason their Warp Engine was down at the moment was that the auxiliary component blew a 24th century version of a gasket. The unit was being worked on at the moment by two slave scientists and two slave engineers, who weren't exactly invested in getting the component running personally, but they were invested in keeping their lives.

They were guarded by a couple of laconic, muscular green-skinned and green-haired men who aimed blasters in their general direction. It was not unknown for those blasters to be used as part of a game between the men. One of the engineers had recently lost one of his toes to that game. He was still hobbling around, providing them with a great deal of amusement.

The ship was one of a series of experimental vessels. They'd lost several to mysterious circumstances and this one happened to be next in line. For that reason there were contingencies. The original creator of the unit was sequestered safely on a planet somewhere and the scientists who worked on the unit were merely individuals that he had trained and informed. Not all ships took a full crew, since they really couldn't waste the expertise of those individuals either. But the hope was that this time, they would somehow make it work more than twice, which meant that engineers and scientists these days were somewhat valuable to the interests of the Orion Syndicate.

This meant that probably the guards were going to catch a little hell for unnecessarily plugging one of the engineers. But that was only if the engineer told someone what happened. They were counting on the fact that slave complaints were generally ignored.

The two guards were engaged in a conversation about an interstellar transmission of a fight that had been recorded, but not yet viewed. The argument was only lightly heated, since they had not yet made any bets. Their attention was not exactly on the people doing the repairs or the engine room.

When blue light sparkled in the area, they were unprepared. The shots they fired happened too soon in the transport to have any effect. And in the next few moments, the two were suddenly much occupied with dying.

The engineers and scientists didn't even bother with trying to defend themselves. They were face down on the ground, hands held over their heads protectively and trying to crawl to someplace a little less filled with phaser fire as immediately as physically possible.

They did not get very far.

They found themselves looking at four stern, tiny, four-armed, and furry individuals in mostly black uniforms with a Starfleet comm badge on their jacket and pips on their collars. Each of them was pointing at the cowering people with some sort of small weapon in all four hands. The tails of the creatures held full sized blasters. “Don't move,” one of the creatures said. “This ship is being claimed by the Federation Starship Voyager of the House Presba.”

One of the scientists fainted. The other cocked an eyebrow and said, “Fascinating.” The two engineers mostly quivered and tried to do as the scary, tiny people instructed.

==^==

There was plenty of fight for Voyager's Marines in the rest of the ship. They didn't worry about the irony of boarding a pirate ship to take it over. They just burned phaser and stomped faces.

Of course, it took awhile. And the ship rocked quite a bit while the ducking and the phasering and the blastering were happening. Eventually, however, the corridors were smoky and scorched, but empty. The Bridge was zinged and small fires were burning, but occupied by Voyager's people. The OSS Lucky Dragon was theirs.

==^==

“Well done, Commander Tucker.”

“Thank you, Captain. It went according to plan. We had fifteen casualties on our side, no fatalities. Sickbay is patching them up as we speak.” They walked together to the bridge of the ship, followed by a small compliment of Marines.

“Excellent.”

“We did manage to capture the Captain and we've got his mouth taped shut so he won't issue a kill command to the ship. If we didn't have to have him aboard we'd just brig him, but we thought you might want to transfer command codes. We've also got several prisoners. We're trying to figure out who were staff and who were slaves so we can segregate them and put the slavers on ice for trial.”

“Have Counselor Nael help you with that. She'll be able to tell you. If there is one thing Betazoids are good at, it's figuring out the truth.”

“Of course, Captain.”

They entered the Bridge. Two of Voyager's Marines, Ensign Katech and Ensign Booker, towered over a kneeling, shackled Orion. The Orion managed to look defiant, even with his mouth taped shut and his arms tied behind his back.

Kathryn Janeway stopped, propped her fists on her hips and stared down at him with a touch of menace. She began. “I am Kathryn Janeway of the House Presba...” She narrowed her gaze at him, did the man just pale? She continued her introduction. “I am Captain of the Federation Starship Voyager. I've been looking for you.” With that statement he went several more shades of pale green. “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, and I don't care which. I'm going to have Ensign Katech there, remove that mouth patch. If you say anything that I don't like, he's going to shoot you. What you are going to do now is hand over the command of this ship to myself or suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”

The Orion nodded once.

Kathryn Janeway nodded to the Ensign and the Klingon reached down and abruptly tore off the patch.

The Orion yelped in pain. Then with mistaken bravado he'd sneered and spit at Captain Janeway. He missed.

And couldn't believe it.

Mostly because she was right there, with a hand in his hair easily yanking his resisting head back and a knife pressed against his neck. She was making a noise that a human shouldn't be able to make and it made part of him water, because he knew that noise. He faintly heard the words, “Captain. Captain. Don't do this. Leave it to the Marines.”

He felt the blade slice a bit into his skin, enough that he felt blood trickle down his neck and onto his chest. And he realized she was shaking, not in fear, but to control the blade from going deeper.

He made the mistake of trying to look up and immediately closed his eyes against the grim, ferality in her blue gaze.

“I am Starfleet.” She hissed, as if reminding herself more than him. “We have a code, a code of honor. We give people second chances. My people want me not to do this, because they think it's not like me. But they don't know what it's like for the Prime of the House Presba these days. They don't know how much we burn. All the time. Every day. You have,” she growled in his ear, “no idea how much I want to slice you open for what your Syndicate has done to my family. But I am Starfleet and I am of the House Presba. Honor demands... But don't push me.” Her knife slid a little, but then she inhaled and snapped her teeth at him.

Abruptly she let go of his hair and was suddenly gone from his periphery. The Orion, who was no coward, whimpered. And he looked at the person who was now several feet in front of him with new eyes.

He wasn't the only one. Nor was he the only one who gulped a bit.

Captain Janeway pointed a green-tinted knife at the Captain of the Lucky Dragon. There was no compromise in her gaze. “Give me the command codes.”

==^==

Commander Chakotay stepped into the Ready Room. It was empty save for the captain. Lieutenant Ro was away on an errand.

“I guess you heard.”

“Yes. Do you want to talk about it?”

Kathryn covered her face with her hands. “Not really.” Then she dropped them on her desk and looked up at the concerned face of her friend. “Please sit.”

He did, taking the seat across from her desk. His demeanor was kind and he waited patiently.

“I don't know what to do. We've been... changed, my friend. I begin now to understand what B'Elanna has struggled with for so long. She should be up for medals for her ability to hold back alone.” Kathryn looked down at her hands for a moment, then back at her friend. “I want vengeance so bad I can taste it. And I had a temper to begin with. It was a near thing with Ransom. It was worse with the Orion commander. When it comes to it, I've relied on my connection with Starfleet Ideals to hold me back, but in the face of things now, those ideals...

“... are still there, Kathryn. They still apply. In fact, they apply more.” Chakotay said kindly. He leaned forward, so he wasn't quite so far away. “You forget, Starfleet ideals are about honor. True, they are about the rights of freedom, pursuit of happiness, and right of free and fair exchange of knowledge. But... but... it's all based on the honor by which one pursues those rights. And honor matters to you. To me. To all of us aboard Voyager. But as you have pointed out to me in the past, the struggle itself has honor.” He paused, “There is also something you are forgetting. It's war. And the Orion Syndicate has chosen a side. That may be playing a part in your unconscious decision making. Maybe... maybe you just need to clarify what you want to accomplish.”

“I thought I already had. I just... don't want to be one of those who said, 'I was just following orders.'”

“Even if it's true.”

“Maybe especially if. On the other hand, there are more lives at stake than we probably realize. I don't think the Orion ship was from this Universe, Chakotay. If that's the case, we may be talking the fate of people in both Universes. Which calls for a thoroughness of purpose... that I fear I may be up to.”

“Kathryn, I feel silly pointing this out, but... if you're questioning it, then you don't have to worry. And you have my support. We'll find a way to keep us on the path of Honor.”

She looked at Chakotay as if seeing him for the first time. Then she gave him a wry smile. “Thank you, my friend. You may have just saved my soul.”

==^==

General Martok insisted that the Women of House Presba accompany him on his Bird of Prey, the IKS Thanatos. It wasn't exactly a command they could refuse. So the Klingon Judgment was put to port and all the women on board, transferred over.

They were given generous quarters, a suite. When they entered the plush accommodations, Lwaxana flashed a glance at Miral and said, “I told you. They just give them to me.”

The Judge had laughed. “Well, in this case, it's us. But yes, I see, my daughter. You can't go anywhere without them handing you beautiful places in which to rest. I marvel.”

The Klingons who accompanied them glanced at each other. They personally weren't surprised a Truth Seeker was being given excellent quarters. They were more surprised to hear the casual affection that was between the Judge and the Betazoid. It was almost as if the Judge had no fear of Truth Seekers at all.

Which might be the case.

The Judge turned to the Klingons and said, as if she knew what they'd been thinking, “You may go. I and my family can settle in from here.”

The guards slapped their chests in salute and exited, but not very far. They took up posts outside the door and waited.

The women were aware that they were probably being recorded somehow. As it wasn't an emergency yet, they resorted to hand talk on one level and talked about different things on another. Rooms were divvied between them and assigned to their servants. They had not left the other three women on the Klingon's Justice, though – possibly – they might have been safe. It just didn't seem like a good idea. Innocuous assignments were given, things that the three other women might normally be expected to perform, based on their previous interactions. It had turned out that the women were all great assistants and they were fast making themselves invaluable to the House Presba.

That was just fine by all of them. Working together was a way to stay alive and secure.

==^==

General Martok's table was amply filled and the seating was comfortable. The women of House Presba settled around the table in a traditional way. Judge and Truth Seeker were on chairs across from each other, their mates on stacked pillows besides them. Martok sat at the head of the table.

There were no other officers, no other guards.

He grabbed a hunk of beast and took a bite. It was an unspoken permission. In fact there was no speaking for a few minutes.

He noted that both the Judge and the Truth Seeker fed their mates first, filling plates and handing it to them. He nodded to himself, watched their selections. He had been deliberate in his choices for the meal. The Betazoid gave vegetables to the Vulcan. The Klingon women gave a variety of types of food to the human. They both chose what was suited to themselves.

He knew the Judge, or thought he did by now. The woman was Honor to the first degree. She would eat what was at his table, even it were poisoned. Because then the dishonor would fall on him. Klingons traditionally despised poisoners, since they found the act cowardly.

Eventually, after drinking a healthy amount of blood wine he spoke. “Now that we have something in our belly and the room to ourselves, I believe it is time.” He gave them a stern look, one that brooked no prevarication. “Tell me from where you really hail.”

He saw them glance at each other, and then Miral set down her own mug. “Will you believe me if I tell you?” She didn't bother asking if they would live after. If it came to defending themselves, they would do what they must. But it would take a miracle for them to take the ship if that were the case.

On the other hand, he said the empire needed them and Lwaxana had said he was telling the truth. If he intended to harm them, then they would not be here.

“Your Honor, of all the people in this Universe, I would believe you. Besides...,” He took another bite of beast. “There is a Truth Seeker in the room.”

“There is at that.” She looked at the other women and they arrived at quiet consensus. So she told him, “It began with a Trial on Ab'Liev Tertius. Tulek of House Qua'lon, may that PetaQ rest in Grethor, owed gambling debts you wouldn't believe. We had gone to the planet to get him to honor a previous trial's contract...”


	13. Chapter 13

By the time she was done telling him about how they acquired the ship, leaving out only a few things, since he did not need to know, he was enraptured. He had interrupted, not unkindly, but with enthusiasm. “See, that is what has made this all so fascinating. Taking over that ship was such a Klingon thing for you to do!”

Miral grimaced at him. “I don't understand.”

He smiled toothily. “No. I suppose you wouldn't. You are Klingon. Your Human mate, she is Klingon. The Truth Seeker, is Klingon and her Vulcan mate, is Klingon. It wouldn't have occurred to any of you to do differently.”

Miral glanced down at Gretchen, then at the other women, and then back at Martok.

He grinned toothily. “I will explain. Do you think you, Miral Torres, were not investigated? Oh, well, we didn't even have to look far. Your daughter...” He raised a hand to forestall questions, “... has a certain amount of fame in the Empire. She ranks equal to me. Do you know what she used to do when her mother's name is mentioned?” They just stared at him. “No, no of course you don't know.” He laughed, and drank a bit of blood wine. “I will tell you.”

He leaned in, “First she spit on the ground, and then she killed the person who brought up her mother's name.” Then he laughed again. “That is, until you. Now, we lost a few people there at first. She didn't believe, until the videos started making the net.”

“Videos?!”

“Well, the security cameras in the Judgment Halls...”

Miral was growling dangerously. “They put my court cases on the net like they were entertainment?!”

Martok shouldn't have been surprised. “No. No, of course not. They are there for the education of...”

“This is...” She looked down at the hand that was suddenly clasped to her forearm. “...What is it, my mate?”

“I want to know how I am Klingon.”

Miral blinked at Gretchen and smiled indulgently before kissing her. “My mate, you are Klingon because you are of the House Presba.”

“No.” corrected Martok. “I mean, yes, but that's not the only reason.” He gave Gretchen a long, evaluating look and then turned his attention to T'Pel. Whatever it was he sought in them, they passed. “The next time you eat at my table, you will sit in chairs besides your mates.”

Then he continued. “Do you know how many Humans are taken as slave/mates... in a traditional way... in this Universe?” Miral looked back at the general. He raised his index finger and pointed at Gretchen. “One. That I know of. If there is another, they are hidden away, like someone is ashamed. But you... you parade yours around like she was a prize.” His eyes raked over Gretchen boldly, but not possessively. “And rightly so. She walks with Honor.” Then his gaze turned to Lwaxana.

“Do you know how many Truth Seekers carry the name of a Klingon House?” Again he raised his index finger and then pointed. “And you, Truth Seeker and mate, behave in very Klingon ways. You walk with pride, but I have never heard of you forcing anyone to bow to you.” The Truth Seeker couldn't help but look appalled.

“See, right there. You have Honor. It never occurred to you. Recall the trial of Beq. It is now legendary. Most Truth Seekers would have stripped his mind. But you... and your mate... You chose a very Klingon way of making your point. His Own Knife! His Own Knife! And then you let him regain his Honor.

He slapped his hand on the table for emphasis. “That was very Klingon! And your mate. You know, Vulcans here, they don't shut up. Logic this and logic that. They don't listen. But your mate, Truth Seeker, she doesn't speak. But we know... We see. She watches and listens and then, does what needs to be done. Logic, yes. But practical. Doesn't try to tell anyone what to do. Just does it herself. Or with you, Truth Seeker. Again, very Klingon.

“I hear you all train with the Bat’leth. The dk-tahg. Full MoQbara. Why? For the Honor of House Presba. Your crew walks in pride in being on your ship Judge. They were most disappointed that the Klingon Justice was put to Port. If you called for them, they would come. Running. Do you know whose ship they tried to join soon after? They all applied to the IKS Tor'stag. Your daughter's ship. Of course, they couldn't all go. We have other places for them. But some of them managed. Because they were on your ship. And your daughter wants to know you, even though, right now you look younger than she does. How did you manage that?” Then he waved that question off as not important. He looked back at Miral. “Do you know what your daughter does now when she hears your name?”

“General Martok...”

“She tells them to turn it up.” He laughed. “The sound I mean. She likes the way you think and fight.” He growled a little and winked. “And so do I. If I thought I'd had a chance, I'd...” He grinned. “Ah well. I never did tell you why she spit upon the ground.

“The Miral Torres of this Universe is dead. Was dead years ago. She failed to keep Klingon ways at a bad time for such things. Took a Human male as a love interest ...” He gave Gretchen a reassuring smile, of sorts. “Not like you, at all. That Human had no honor. Miral's family, they weren't exactly happy. But they would have accepted, if Miral hadn't been so stubborn. Only one good thing came out of that relationship. A child. Thank Kahless. She makes a good General. Has won many important battles. Very brave. We'd be lost without her. Don't be shocked when you see her.” He pointed to an eye, “She's missing one. Wears the scar beautifully.”

“You are telling us you're taking us to see her.” Lwaxana interpreted.

“Yes.” He nodded. “You see, we're going to the Alpha Quadrant, where she is stationed at the moment. She and the Bajoran Intendant have been... experiencing conflicts of interest. The Intendant there needs to be reminded who rules. But...” He clarified, “That is not why you are going. Do you know how many honest judges we know that we have?”

Lwaxana glanced at Miral.

“Exactly.”

“The Orion Syndicate has their dirty fingers in everyone's Gagh here.” He looked at Miral. “But,” He smiled wickedly, “They are quaking in their boots because of you. Assassins have been hired. You recall the man who tried to bribe you?”

Miral growled and the knife handle in her hand crumpled enough to make the blade bend sharply to the left.

Martok blinked. “Yes. I see you do. He was supposed to kill you if he failed.” He smiled down at Gretchen. “That was a fine bit of counseling you did for him. Too bad he was stupid.”

Gretchen nodded graciously. “May I reply?” General Martok grinned even more at her courtesy and nodded. “My only comment is that unfortunately, I lose that way a lot, it seems. I thought I understood the process, and... Statistically speaking I should be succeeding. I am not used to this constant failure.”

“It is not your doing. You do succeed. But they underestimate you, because they see only slave and don't pay attention to the important details.”

“Such as...”

“Your mate listens to you.”

“Well, I admit, that is an important detail to me.”

He laughed long and hard. “Yes. Yes, it would be.” Then Martok continued, eating and drinking during the while. “The Syndicate took note, I will tell you. They began calling in favors, trying to get trials moved out of your way. But, for some reason, their methods just weren't working any more.” His smile turned ugly. “Seems the people... and the Chancellor... have been waiting for an honest Judge. And Truth Seeker.”

“I thought Truth Seekers never lied.”

“They don't. But then, how could anyone tell anyone differently after?”

“Ah. I see.”

“Besides, most Truth Seekers don't do trials. Klingon trials are beneath them. Forgive me for saying this, but I think it's because they want to be the stars rather than let the process work. But then comes your family.” He couldn't help smiling broadly again. “Boldly naming your House at every court session and then proving why people should quake at the name when they hear it. General Torres has been obliged to bring out the Crest. Because the Chancellor, you see, wants it displayed. Prominently. As he wants the trials that you run displayed prominently.” He gave the women a toothy grin and chuckled. “General Torres of the House Presba didn't know whether to cuss or cheer and certain Truth Seekers have been submitting their resumes to the Empire.

“They may have to wait though. We don't have enough Judges we can trust yet. Which brings me back to why you are here.”

“There is a trial you wish me to conduct.”

“Several. The Chancellor is very interested in seeing a few things settled. You see, the Orion Syndicate is starting to gain too much of a foothold in the Alpha Quadrant. We have managed to capture two or thee of the bigger fish there. Normally we would just kill them. But a trial would be instructional. Unfortunately, finding a judge who would stay bribed...”

“You can give them to me...” growled Miral and another knife bent in her hand. “I will judge them for free and they'll wish they'd never been born.” She felt pressure on her arm again and looked her mate. She grimaced. “Yes. They will receive a fair trial. My honor on it.” Then she looked up, realizing what she'd just said. It meant, if they took the challenge and won...

Martok smiled serenely, for a Klingon. “See. The Chancellor knew you would say yes. And yes, we want an honest trial. That's all we ever wanted. Which is why he asked me to fetch you. Which... brings me to security...” He nodded towards the closed door. “You will live on this ship for the time being. When we arrive at our destination you are free to go and visit the sights and participate in social events, but you will take guards with you. You're too valuable to us to lose and it's equally important that you be seen. The Chancellor, however, would be very upset with me if something were to happen to his Judge and Truth Seeker.”

“His...”

“We'll be making a little stop along the way for some paperwork.” Now Miral paled. “Now, don't worry. He suspected you might not be from... around here. But he has waved those little issues away. From our perspective, you are the real Miral Torres. The other's records have been fixed to reflect the higher truth.”

“And if we should find a way back?”

“We'll handle those details when we come to it. Perhaps by then your example will have inspired others.”

“One could hope.”

“Indeed.” There was a lull, and then he said as if just remembering, “I do have other things to point out. It should come as no surprise that a certain House on Betazed is very interested in current happenings in the Empire. You may expect that there will be official and non-official visits from various parties interested in gaining favor... or in testing you.”

Lwaxana flicked a glance at Miral and then at Martok. “We were aware that such a possibility might occur. It was one of the scenarios we explored in our planning. We will follow protocol and do that which adds Honor to the House. And make those who interfere... wish they had not.”

If Martok felt a thrill at the impossible darkening of her eyes and the growl she emitted, he hid it. Instead he grinned and finished off his cup of wine. “See. You are Klingon.”

==^==

Phoebe Janeway hauled the heavy, large hunk of Blackwood, off of the bed of the skimmer. Technically, she shouldn't have been able to carry it. But she'd long ago quit making a mental checklist about those sorts of things in favor of just doing what came next.

In this case, what came next was claiming some of the wood that had been scavenged and secured for her so that she could carve. She wanted to get the delivery stowed and put away before dinner. She'd promised Deanna that she would be there and on time.

She was turning on her heel, with the log firmly held by her arm on her shoulder, when she scented the presence of another person, then she heard them calling. “Excuse me; are you Phoebe Janeway of the House Presba?”

The voice was feminine and a woman stepped into view, carefully maneuvering around the objects yet to be put away. She was elegantly dressed in emerald green and wore a rather impressive matching hat. She appeared to be human and healthy, with brown skin and dark brown eyes. She had no eyebrows, which Phoebe found slightly odd. But then, it was odd that the woman was there at all.

“Who wants to know?” Phoebe wasn't trying to be rude, but technically they were supposed to be more alert to security. Apparently she and her nieces weren't doing that great a job of it.

“Ah. Yes. See, I am Guinan.” The woman said as she stepped a little closer. She smiled widely, but approached cautiously, with her palms open. “I promise. I'm harmless to you. Though I'm a big fan of your work. Also, I'm a friend of Deanna's. You do know Deanna?”

“I know her. Am I really the one you wanted to see?”

“Ah, then you are Phoebe.”

“Yes. May I help you?”

“Well, I think it's really the reverse of that. The question is May I help you? You see, I feel this compulsion... to be here. A real need, if you will.”

Phoebe shifted and didn't quite know what to think. “Well, I'm unloading this skimmer. You're welcome to help me with that, but your dress is too nice for it. Why don't you come in and make yourself comfortable and I can check with Deanna, if you don't mind.”

“No. No, I don't mind. Maybe she'll be able to tell me why I'm here.”

Phoebe laughed all the way into her studio.

==^==

The crew of Voyager literally took the OSS Lucky Dragon apart, from information databases to stored supplies and right on down to the basic compositional elements. After all, they didn't actually need the ship. They needed what was on it. The Orion Syndicate members were put into stasis and stored away for trial. The slaves, a mix of species, had been given the choice of joining the crew or finding their own way. They opted to join their saviors, even if they were a little intimidated by them.

So now there were a few more scientists, a few more engineers, and several pleasure professionals on board and some newly minted hard-core angry marine trainees.

Counselor Priam Nael convinced Captain Kathryn Janeway to put the specialty-skilled individuals under her department, since counseling was indeed part of their training and they could continue to utilize that skill, at the very least. Since the Betazoid's department was growing, Captain Janeway gave her a field rank of Lieutenant Commander. Kathryn had no idea how things would evolve with that department, but she wanted to make sure that there was no question that the Counselor was in charge.

Kathryn Janeway hadn't been sure about allowing those particular additions to the rosters. In fact, one of her thoughts had been, 'My God, we've become a pleasure resort...' But she refrained from saying it aloud, thankfully. She figured that she needed to trust the professional – who had decided that maybe Voyager's crew did need more outlets.

It was suggested, anonymously, that the mess hall either needed to be expanded or another one created on one of the new decks. Janeway approved the creation of a new one. So a secondary dining area and lounge was created. It too had a Long Table. The tradition was now well established for the crew and it was a highly utilized feature. The new dining area was built in such a way as to allow access directly to the Park. So there was a kind of patio setting to it and the tables could be moved. The dining area was thought of as a bit more formal than the mess hall. It became thought of as a place for “fine dining.” Some of Counselor Nael's department took rotation there, specifically.

The engineers and scientists proved very helpful, now that there wasn't a gun to their heads. They were completely willing to share everything they knew with Voyager. They were also pleasantly surprised with the technological advances they spotted on the ship.

It was decided, by the senior staff, to go ahead and take the device apart and put it back together again, this time with Borg and Starfleet expertise, before applying it to Voyager. They wanted the unit to be as compatible as possible, since that appeared to be a real issue with the OSS vessels. They also decided to make, a secondary unit as a back up, as well as to do some serious research – which they'd already been engaged in – to see how they could add or help the functionality of the unit. The new scientists and engineers were very enthusiastic about that idea, since they felt that it was the slipshod attitude of the Orion Syndicate that kept losing the other vessels.

Well, that and the getting shot dead for failing part...

There were fascinating items stored in the OSS ship, some of them weaponry, some contraband, some holo-novels and other kinds of entertainments. The contraband, if it wasn't something useful to Voyager was stripped back to its basic elements and put into reserve. The information database was also chock full of interesting details. They found maps to hideouts, secret labs, meeting notes, videos of mayhem and criminality, fiscal records and other fascinating and relevant content. They also found out about a whole different Universe, things that were not necessarily in the Federation files.

==^==

A team was formed to sift through the data. There was plenty to investigate. It was Tal Celes who found the video of the Orion's contact with the Borg in the Delta Quadrant.

The young Bajoran felt shivers down her spine as she watched the cube arrive, declare its intentions and then the security footage that showed the follow up fight and flight.

One ship got away.

She watched it anyway, couldn't take her eyes away. She wanted to be able to analyze it, understand what it was that caught her attention.

Then she realized trademark was not there. Resistance was not futile. These Borg were not... quite... as efficient. They were deadly, yes. And there were no survivors. The people on that other ship had not been added to the collective. They'd just been deleted.

Well, why do that? Borg didn't bother with deleting what they did not add. They just moved on to a different world. But that was in this Universe. In the other, maybe the protocol was different. Maybe it wasn't perfection that was sought, but something else.

Seven of Nine would not approve.

One ship got away with the record. And that record was passed on to the other ships that might encounter them, along with instructions on what to do.

One ship... And it was still awful.

And that was when she realized that the Borg had let them go. They'd wanted them to be free to pass on what they knew. Tal Celes now understood why she waited.

She then contacted Captain Janeway. Captain Janeway contacted Seven of Nine.

Tal Celes was right. Seven of Nine thought the Borg of that Universe were terribly flawed. She also thought they might be even more dangerous than the Borg in their Universe.

The captain commented, “I never thought I'd say it, but it is possible for the Borg to be worse.”

Seven of Nine turned to Captain Janeway and said without hesitation. “We must warn them.”

Then another member of the team contacted them. “Captain, you should see this. The Syndicate made contact with the Hirogen.” The way he said those words did not bode well.

==^==

“You should see this,” was the statement from one of the ensigns who had been assigned to work on the information digging projects with Lieutenant Ro. “You should really see this.” His eyes were wide. There was a long list of videos, all specifically noted as “Court – Klingon – Justice Presba” by date and time.

Lieutenant Ro, who was going through her own data pile, turned to the ensign. “Well, Ensign Smith, put it on the big screen.”

“Well, there's a bunch of them...”

“Pick one...”

“Right. Uh...”

He selected one.

The image started abruptly, with no preamble. Lieutenant Ro and the ensign watched as people, mostly Klingon, assembled into the seats provided. There was a middle corridor of sorts between the rows of seats. The corridor eventually led to an open circular arena and then past two tables and then to a dais. Laren realized it was a judgment seat.

The camera angle changed and suddenly focused on the entrance of two Klingons. It followed those Klingons to one of the two tables. Then it changed again. This time its focus was on the entrance of one Klingon wearing robes and one Human who was wearing much less than that, but clasped her hand to the forearm of the Klingon. They looked regal.

Lieutenant Ro was suddenly right at the screen, her mouth open. The Klingon and Human were followed by a Betazoid and a Vulcan. The Lieutenant touched the screen, followed the trail of their walking. There was a noise, a sound that was such a weird mix of sorrow and amazement that it brought tears to the ensigns eyes, though he didn't know why.

Then the brunette was speaking gibberish. “What? Excuse me, what ma'am?”

The Bajoran turned and tried to speak standard. The words wouldn't come. She inhaled sharply, closed her mouth and tapped her comm badge. Then she spoke again. The only word he recognized was Janeway. Then Lieutenant Ro turned to watch the screen again. The Judge was introducing herself. “I am Miral Torres of the House Presba....”

==^==

The ensign was thanked and excused by the captain, and just in time. Laren's eyes were bright with unshed tears. The Captain did not dare look at the screen, though she knew she would eventually. Instead she walked to her mate and pulled her into a warm hug.

“They're alive,” Laren said, over and over, in Presba Tongue. Kathryn kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and her mouth. “They're alive.”

She held the Bajoran tight, “Computer, rewind video to the beginning and play.” Then she turned, finally, to witness for herself.

A few seconds later it was Laren holding Kathryn, who had sunk as if boneless in her grasp.

==^==

Dr. Pulaski entered the office at a rush. She had a medical tricorder and hypospray tucked in sheaths on her belt and a bottled item in her hand. There were four other people in the room. Seven of Nine was holding B'Elanna Torres and they were solemnly looking at something on the large screen in the room. Ro Laren was crouched besides Janeway, who had been laid prone on a couch.

The doctor made her way to the couch and pulled out the tricorder. “Excuse me, Lieutenant Ro,” she said politely and then she pushed the young woman back gently. The other woman muttered something that Kate couldn't quite translate, but she thought that was mostly because her mind was already on assessment. She ran the tricorder briefly over the still form of the captain.

Then, considering the wisdom of her choice only very briefly, she tucked the tricorder away. She barely got the cap of the bottle open and off when her hand, the one with the bottle, was grasped powerfully. She felt a body pressed against her, warm and strong. “Now, wife,” husked Kathryn Janeway dangerously, “You weren't going to slide that appalling stuff under my nose were you?”

It was very hard to remain dignified with one arm stretched out to there and another clasped firmly down and impotent in a powerful embrace by the other woman. Somehow Kate managed it. “I was trying to wake you.”

“You've succeeded.” Was that a ... growl?

Or was it a purr?

“And I'm not your...” Whatever that noise was, it played havoc with Kate's thought process.

Kathryn continued. “Why do you insist on using that stuff? It smells terrible.”

“Uh, I have to put the cap back on.” Kate looked meaningfully at her other hand, the one that was being held down in the other direction.

“So you do. Why did you come, Kate? You could have sent Dr. Zimmerman, Dr. Dezhe. Or even just called over the com. Instead here you are with that old home remedy. I still remember the first time you used it on me.”

“That's because it is effective,” Kate snapped back, perturbed.

“So is a hypospray, my dear doctor. It's just less odoriferous and annoying. Besides, you and I know, that all I had to do was lay there for a few minutes and I'd wake up fine.”

Kate Pulaski felt the warmth of someone at her back, a feminine form. A hand covered hers, the one that held the cap, and gently removed the object. Then the bottle was removed from her other hand. Her arm was guided down to her side and then she felt herself drawn even closer in an embrace. One that trapped her arms to her side.

“Thank you, Laren,” murmured Kathryn. Kate felt them kiss, long and deeply, as if they meant it, right by her face. She came to the conclusion that the noise she heard, which was now coming from both of them, was definitely a purr.

Kate tried to maintain her composure. “You still would have needed someone to check you over.”

“Hah. A justification. So unlike you, Kate.” Kate felt, heard the captain sniff her neck. “You smell delicious. Absolutely edible.” Kate moved, resisting, but the arms that held her were strong, firm. Not letting go. “Settle down love. I'm not going to do anything terrible to you. I just... need to hold you for a moment. I'm not ready for you to slap me silly a second time. I wouldn't respond well to it.”

Kate wisely stayed silent.

“Behind you,” said Kathryn with deliberate calm, “there is a video playing of my mother. She's in slave garb. Why? Because she's in a Universe where Humans brought down slavery on their heads. You've seen the files by now. You know the story. My mother-in-law is sitting beside her, judging some sort of trial. While my mates are seated beside them. It is good to see they are alive, but I find myself feeling extraordinarily angry at why they are there, my love.” Kate felt another inhalation, “And that makes it very dangerous for you, because it could go either way with me at the moment.

“I can sense your pulse, the blood flowing through you. I can imagine what it tastes like and I want to taste it, because I want you. If you slapped me or tested me, I would hurt you or claim you or both. Probably both, given the state of my mind. Which is why we are sitting here, and I am holding you.” Kate felt lips on her cheek, very briefly, very affectionately. There was a dangerous chuckle, that delicious purring noise. “Oh, I do want to claim you. I have missed you so very much.” There was another deep inhalation. “I can smell your arousal, your beautiful scent. I can sense your body shifting, charging with the words I'm saying to you.

“But you are so not ready for us yet. You're still mad at me and distrustful. And that is not something we or you need at the moment. So I'll lay it out for you. You're smart enough to have figured that out, but I confirm it for you. It's not a one person bargain.” Kathryn adjusted her hold, gentled it, and made it more of a hug. “You'd like it Kate. Infinite Variety. I remember what you told me about your other marriages. I believe... bored... was the word you used. You'd never be bored, my dear. That is sure. Then again, you weren't bored with me, so who is to say?” Again, there was that chuckle and Kate Pulaski felt lips against her neck, and then pressing wetness.

Did she just get licked? The blonde woman blinked at how odd and sensual it felt.

“Can you feel them looking at us? I feel them all the time. My mates are with me and I with them. All the time. Except, right now there's a hollow place a space reserved for our two mates in the other Universe. It makes us all a little crazy. A little hungry. And then there you are and there's that space in me that says you. And because it's been there so long, it says you to my mates. So there are big, emotional gaping spaces in us that can not be filled by any one else except those we crave. And we have few choices, either learn to live without or simply suffer. The problem is, living gets a little strange when it hurts this way and the maxim of time erasing doesn't apply.”

Feel them? Kate cautiously glanced around and could see them. All three of the other women had turned to gaze at Kate. She could tell they were listening, even though Kathryn was speaking very softly. But there was something else behind the eyes. “No. I can't feel them. I'm merely human.”

“There's nothing 'mere' about you. You're extraordinary,” Kathryn corrected. “You haven't really wrapped your mind around things yet and that tends to slow you down. You need to be able to think things through, process it. I know. It's the scientist in you, and the advocate. I need that part of you, these days, to challenge me. Keep me sailing straight. I'd do the same for you, if I were able. I want you to be free to make your decision. I want you to come to... me... us... of your free will. Knowing what it means. Don't you want that too?”

Kate couldn't help the unconscious nod.

Kathryn continued, softly. “Good. Now, you have something to work with. Something to think about, besides teasing me and making my life more difficult because you're ticked. So if you'll just stay still, for just a moment longer, I think... I believe...I can pull it together.”

Kate Pulaski felt the other woman shiver against her. After a moment's thought, she moved her arms until they were wrapped around Kathryn in return. And she held on, for as long as it took.

==^==

“Come down to Sickbay at your earliest convenience.”

“Of course, Kate,” Kathryn said evenly.

They sat apart now and the tension in the room had eased considerably. “I'd actually like to see all of you. There's something going on here that I don't understand. I...” She blinked and squinted at the captain. “Kathryn, could you...open your mouth for just a moment?”

“You want me to say, Ah?” Kathryn gave her a puzzled look.

“Look, just do it. Don't make me pull medical rank on you.”

The captain rolled her eyes and opened her mouth. She felt strong fingers press her lips back, revealing her gums, then a fingertip stroked over her gums, her sensitive teeth...

“Ow!” Dr. Pulaski abruptly pulled her hand back.

And had it captured in a strong grip. Kathryn was shaking her head. “Unbelievable Kate. Only you would push your luck this way.”

“Push my luck? It was your tooth. Which shouldn't be that pointy or sharp. Damn it.”

The captain said, without looking, “But it is. And there's blood, Kate.” Her nostrils flared. “Your blood. Which calls.”

She pulled Kate's hand towards her, and pulled it open to reveal the cut, bleeding fingertip. Again, without looking at it, she gave the good doctor a burning look. “I think, you had better go, Dr. Pulaski. While you still may.”

She let go of Kate's hand and the doctor stood and tried to regain her composure, her authority. “Sickbay, Captain. But not today.”

“No. That wouldn't be advisable. Dismissed, Dr. Pulaski.”

The Doctor folded her hand into a fist and hurried past the others, who watched her silently, but just as intently as Kathryn did.


	14. Chapter 14

The video data was stored in a secure location and set aside for the moment. The ensign was called back in and given a different set of files to work with. Then the women left, leaving behind nothing that indicated the dangerous territory that had been crossed during his break.

They went home, making their way via turbolift and corridor. Encounters with others were kept to a minimum, but also were inevitable. But most who saw them, knew that look by now. They got out of the way. Some, who were less Starfleet than others, instinctively bowed – even though they knew it wasn't necessary. It was just reflexive on their part, as natural as breathing.

The women held it together, right even to the point where they entered their own rooms. There they made their preparations and took care of those responsibilities which required a bit of forethought. When they were refreshed they entered the Nest in their own time. Each of them were more than a little ready, even with the small amount of necessary distance they'd allowed for themselves.

By now they had a little more control though and a lot less fear about what was happening to them. There was no hesitation to enter the Nest. It was just part of home, a very safe, loving part.

When B'Elanna entered, Kathryn and Laren had already divested their robes, which were more and more just symbolic these days, and were entwined, kissing deeply – eyes closed and deeply savoring each other. The Klingon shivered with the additional heat. It always impressed her how much more she could be aroused – considering where they always seemed to start these days.

The robe she had on she shredded and tore off in her passion. They turned towards her, acknowledging her presence. She made her way towards them. In seconds, Kathryn was to Laren's front, and then she, B'Elanna, was to Laren's back, kissing her Bajoran's long neck and stroking her hands along that beautiful back. “Kahless, how can I want you this much?” She said in wonder, knowing it was unanswerable.

It was the mystery, and they knew if it was a bit of a torment, it was also a real gift.

Tuvok, who had made his way from his station after being excused by Chakotay – who finally recognized the signs – entered the room next. He made his stately way, calm in the center of the storm. He took time to fold his robe and place it safely away, then joined them in the circle that was made for a different kind of battle. He joined them on the other side, embracing his Kathryn, who opened for him with a sliding gasp and push. Their link heightened in him, sang out and sought out those who were mates automatically. They all flinched hard where there was loss, feeling the throbbing wound of it, but went on loving anyway, driven by their need and new natures.

Seven of Nine strode in, having made the arrangements for their children and completed her own preparatory rituals. She held the robe, already folded, in her hand. She hadn't even bothered putting it on this time and only brought it for later, when they might feel a need for modesty. She'd thoughtfully remembered to bring a second robe and when she noticed the shredded cloth on the floor of the next, she'd smiled mildly in amusement.

She joined them, flowing and being gathered into the embrace of her mates. B'Elanna in particular growled her welcome, drew her in for long, needful kisses. That growl thrilled through Seven of Nine, drawing out her own responding cry and she arched to her Klingon's searching touch. “Fill me. Quickly,” she urged.

Her need was met with firm, warm touch. “Kahless, you're so wet,” the Klingon thrilled. She tasted her Borg's skin, and they moved into sultry, sensual motion and fell into ancient, always new rhythms. It wasn't long at all before Seven cried out to the Universe, thrilling them all with her ecstasy and drawing them into it with her. It was always beautiful. Always.

Time stilled in the mates, disappeared from their consciousness. They became light to each other's flame, burning brighter by every touch and feel, every thrust and pressure, every hungry kiss. They would roll together, separate into individual connections, then gather together again as they felt called.

They were still themselves, even with all their changes. They still spoke to one another, praised each other, spoke profanely in their need and love. They burned for each other, blazed and roared.

==^==

Once again General Martok's table was filled and once again Miral, Gretchen, Lwaxana and T'Pel joined him in the haven of his private dining. This time, T'Pel and Gretchen shared status, sat at seats like equals. They erred on the side of caution though and their plates were still selectively filled by their mates. Someone less intelligent might have assumed that they didn't get exactly what they wanted on those plates. But Martok was an observant man, or else he wouldn't have made General.

And one thing Martok had come to conclude was this. The more he observed of these women, the more he liked. He was also aware that there was something unique about these females. They had been changing over the course of the weeks he'd been observing them. Small things, but noticeable if you took time to track them.

Oh, they still ate with modesty. But he'd catch the flash of white in the Human's mouth and compare that with what he knew about humans and knew those beautiful fangs were beyond the usual specification. Then there was the way they threw each other about in the circle. Now, one would expect that there would be quarter given and certainly they were careful with their weapons, never striking to the heart. But he kept sensing, even as he was watching them power at each other, that there was still more. That they held back and not out of concern that they would hurt each other. They held back because it was habit not to reveal. The thing was they appeared to be increasing in strength. And they were still holding back.

And the growls. Who ever heard of humans growling? Or Betazoids. Or Vulcans. And the kind of noise, it was peculiar to all of them. Even Miral. It was the similar to that which sometimes filled Klingons, but shaded differently. Sometimes it gave him tingles just to listen to them.

Well and he'd had to remove the security cameras from their room and put up sound proofing. These women and their libidos. Great Kahless. They could go. All night. And still be fresh in the morning. It both inspired and awed and intimidated.

It was distracting the crew, who were also cautious. Look wrong and the Judge would kill you. Or the Betazoid make you wish you forgot to be born with eyes. It had only taken two very pointed lessons and his people had learned to keep their eyes and their hands to themselves. Of course, his people had seen the trials. They should have known better. But Klingons had pride and sometimes that led to arrogance.

So here were these beautiful, dangerous women – it was like they were designed specifically to inspire certain thoughts – and one did not dare do more than just think and wonder.

On the other hand, they were at his table. And he fully enjoyed them and their conversation. T'Pel still never spoke, but Gretchen had become bolder. Miral and Lwaxana also relaxed enough to hold up the conversation with ease. He came to admire the minds behind the extraordinary bodies.

Today, Lwaxana was quizzing him about the Chancellor and the politics of Qo'nos. So he was telling her what he knew about the Houses of the Kingdom, specifically the Great Houses and their influence. He was also telling her how Chancellor Worf (and hadn't her face just gone an interesting shade of neutral the first time she'd heard the name...) gained his position by vote and battle.

“Has he been a good leader?” Gretchen queried innocently.

He grinned and tore into his beast. “He has been a Great Leader. Very fierce and very like you in pursuit of Honor. It has been good. The last Chancellor was...” There wasn't a word strong enough or appropriate to say in the presence of these women. “... weaker. But the Empire gains strength now, because Worf rules.”

There was a flash of commentary, he just didn't understand it. Miral was giving Lwaxana such a look. Martok scraped at his ear and cussed at his translator. “They just don't make them like they used to.”

“I was saying,” Lwaxana said, glancing at Miral and trusting the rule, “that my daughter, the one in my Universe, has a friendship with our version of Worf. It was thought, for some time, that they might come to an understanding. But... then there was William.” She didn't exactly say the Human's name with joy.

Now the General set down his hunk of beast. “Are you telling me you know the Chancellor?”

“I know Ambassador Worf from our Universe.”

“Fascinating. And he was nearly your son-in-law?” He was trying to picture it and, oddly, found that he could. He knew Deanna Troi. After all, she was of one of the Great Houses of Betazed and a person of rank among Truth Seekers. Too bad about her mother. Though, technically, he knew her mother now, didn't he? Martok looked forward to introducing them to see what might happen.

“I have no idea how near, but I think so. I don't know what happened between them. She never did tell me.”

“Would you have condoned it?”

Lwaxana lips twisted into almost a smile. Someone who didn't know her might have picked that point to be frightened. But Martok was not afraid of this Truth Seeker. Mostly. “My daughter is a full grown woman, able to make her own choices. But I admit I always liked Worf, though I teased him a bit. He's so formal.” Lwaxana looked slightly wistful, but then recovered. The Klingon General gathered that there was a time when Lwaxana could be considered... informal. Martok had greater difficulty envisioning that.

The Betazoid continued and then revealed something amazing. “Deanna is Alexander's Soh-chIm. Which made me his Grandmother, of sorts. He was a good boy, but had much on his mind.” The Betazoid sighed. “Now, if we meet him, I will have to remember I don't know him. That will be very hard. I loved my Grandson. Then again, he probably doesn't exist here.”

T'Pel reached across and touched her mate, two fingers brushed softly against two fingers. Lwaxana looked up and almost smiled again.

Now Martok's eyes were wide and he realized he needed a moment. So he picked up his blood wine and took a great gulp. Then he decided. “Al'xandr makes a fine, if young, Captain. Though he is currently at the border, working as a Scout. If we have a chance I would be honored to introduce you to him.”

Lwaxana looked at the General and for a moment there was an unusual brightness in her eyes. Then it quieted. The General felt the loss right down to his second heart. “Thank you, Martok. That is most kind. But...”

He raised his hand. “It will do him honor to know you. I think you would like him still.”

Lwaxana nodded graciously, but without any more almost smiles. “I am sure of it. He is a valiant young man.”

“Valiant. Good word. Fits him very well.” He took another drink. “I am pleased to know that Chancellor Worf is an honorable man in both Universes.”

Lwaxana looked suddenly thoughtful, and then there was a new sparkle in her gaze. “You know. So am I.”

She was lifting her cup to take a sip of her wine when the fire hit. The metal stem crumpled audibly in her grasp. “Oh dear.”

Martok looked a bit stunned. It was hard not to, given the abrupt scent of arousal that graced the room. Then he heard the Judge speak. “Take your Mate and go back to quarters Lwaxana. We'll continue here for a bit.”

The Betazoid nodded and stood, not bothering to ask Martok's permission. She was usually more courteous, but there was something... a fire in her eyes. She reached and T'Pel touched and there was a sigh of breath between them. They exited, hurrying without hurry.

He finally found his voice and ignored the squeak in favor of asking the question. “Blood Bond?” He took a quick drink, grabbed a hunk of beast to distract himself.

Miral laughed, a little harshly. “You have no idea.” She took a gulp of her own wine. “Now, Gretchen and I, we are very fortunate. We have each other. It is good for us. We burn, but we can soothe. But... Lwaxana and T'Pel...” She closed her eyes. “Imagine you were a telepath and your bond mates were a Universe away.” She shook her head. “It has been very hard for my daughters. On the other hand, I see hope in this. The blood fire runs strong still, which to me says the mates are alive and well. Perhaps burning at the same time even.”

“Mates?”

“We haven't told you everything General. What would have been the point? It wouldn't bring our other children any closer.”

“Explain. In full, if you please.”

Miral looked at Gretchen and there was one of their silent conversations again. To trust or not to trust and how much to trust. He knew the pattern now. But they always ended up trusting him. The honor of which he felt more and more as his understanding of them deepened.

The Klingon Judge began, “I was on Forcas III when they came to me...”

==^==

“So, let me understand this. She has two Vulcans as mates?” He boggled at the potential power of that equation. And was suddenly grateful that it was this Lwaxana and not another.

“And one human, one Bajoran, one Borg and one, very important to me, Klingon.”

“Your B'Elanna Torres.”

“Yes.”

He started to speak, stopped and then gathered his thoughts. “How will they react to this Universe's B'Elanna Torres?”

“She's not their mate, Martok. They'll hurt, but they'll know the difference. I would.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“This Janeway, pardon Gretchen, but to me you are Miral's Gretchen. But this Kathryn Janeway, how likely is she to...”

Gretchen answered, “If they can find a way, they'll get here. Before we were kidnapped by the Orion Syndicate, Kathryn had destroyed one of their ships.”

“You believe that the kidnapping was retribution.”

“We don't know for sure. But the coincidence is almost too strong. Of course, their mistake was in underestimating us.”

He grunted at her careful phrasing. “And they continue to make that mistake.”

“Yes. They do. Since they haven't made the connection that it was their action that has led us all here.” She took another drink “There is a pressing question though that comes to mind. Are the two Universe's Orion Syndicate working together? Or was that a singular foolishness. That is part of what T'Pel has been researching. If the two syndicates are working together and they succeed in contacting the Dominion with this new engine of theirs, then both of our Universes are in trouble. The Dominion is not to be trifled with. They're expansionist shape-shifters. Able to take on any form. And their Breen army is literally designed for battle.”

“It sounds fun.”

Miral smiled at that comment. “Well, from a Klingon perspective. But, you should be aware: The combined forces of the Federation, Klingon Empire and Romulan Empire have been losing. The Dominion is used to winning. But they do it dishonorably, by tearing the opponents down from the inside. It took specific kinds of blood tests to identify the Dominion infiltrators. And I don't know what those were, Martok. You and yours should be very cautious. With the wormhole open, the Dominion now has a pathway.”

“Grrrr.”

“Precisely.” Then the Klingon Judge smiled. “On the other hand, I doubt that Worf would be calling us if he were not himself. They may infiltrate, but they do not have the qualities that make a great Klingon.”

==^==

Eventually the Prime of House Presba on Voyager watched all of the videos, every single trial.

Seven of Nine explained a few of the things they were seeing. She could speak with authority, based on the information she carried within her and the copious research she'd conducted in an effort to understand and communicate with B'Elanna and the research she had continued when the other Klingons joined them. She magnified certain images and they saw the scars on Gretchen's cheek and Miral's, confirming the Klingon Judge's opening statements. Gretchen and Miral were mates.

Kathryn and B'Elanna found some happiness in that. Though it still shocked them in some ways. It seemed right, when they thought about it.

The research took them into definitions. They found out what Truth Seekers were, and what was expected of the Betazoids who performed that task, and what the notoriety was all about. They knew then what a difficult path their family was trodding, because it was obvious that Lwaxana and T'Pel were changing the rules, while sticking to the first concept of Truth Seeker.

They didn't hide their discoveries from the children. The Borg youngsters, were wise in their own way and each had their own logical methodology and thought processes, which they brought to bear on the problem. So they all began to review, again, the history and politics of that other Universe with new eyes and expectations.

They brought in Commander Veckma and Dr. Dezhe and got their input.

The Klingons suggested that the videos be shared with the crew and any other files relating to them. Their reasoning was that the attitude that Women of House Presba were displaying would be expected in the crew of Voyager. Especially if they planned on claiming to be of the House Presba in this other Universe.

It was also apparent to them that Miral and the others were shooting for as pure a display of Honor of the Heart as one could get. It was almost a meditation to watch them in action. The Klingons found it worthy. It just confirmed what they already thought about the House Presba and what they wanted for themselves.

So the crew evaluated the strategy that the women in the other Universe were employing, from the first trial to the last in the list. And they began to compile their own plan, based on it for when contact was made. Because now there was no question about whether they would be attempting to make the journey. Now it was an absolute necessity.

==^==

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but Kathryn, you can be wonderfully submissive in the Nest when you feel like playing that way, but on the whole you would make a terrible slave.” Voyager said this with great confidence.

“But... Humans in that Universe...”

“Doesn't matter. The 'rules' won't apply to you. Especially since you would never be convincing at it. You've had the reins of authority for too long to let them go easily. And I don't recommend you taking on the role of slave anyway. It doesn't make sense in context. Now... some of our Orions could manage it. Or Seven of Nine. Or some of our human crew. But do you really want them to; after all they've been through?”

“Then how are we going to do this? You've read their laws and I suspect they outnumber us and I still don't see me hanging out in the ship the whole time while we rescue our family.”

“By Bravado! By acting as if you and my other people are special, different. Which, as you know, many of you are anyway. Dr. Pulaski confirmed that there are some definite divergences happening and not just with the Prime Family. They've decided that since the computer can't seem to see anything odd, to just record information the old fashioned way. They've been measuring heart rates and comparing to the old ones, noting physical differences, say like amazingly sharp teeth. That sort of thing. It seems the maze continues it's transformation and there is no actual evidence of when or where it stops.”

“It may not. Indications are that the changes are so subtle we aren't even noticing them. It may be years before we see the results of them all,” said Seven of Nine as she entered with their baby girl. She paused long enough to kiss and cuddle, and then took a seat on the floor by the dining table, which was a bit further away from the cooking at the counter. She placed Emina in her lap and somehow “magically,” had a toy in her hand. The baby laughed, charmed.

Voyager continued. “Well, that may be true, and though the changes may give us an edge, we'd still be able to manage this, even if they'd never occurred. The purely human parts of the crew could carry it off and if we have to, we can get the docs to fake physical signatures. Though I hate to do it, since it puts us in a lie. And then, if we get caught, well, you now know how well Klingons respond to liars.” They all thought soberly of Miral's judgment of Beq. Voyager continued. “As long as we go in with planning, we'll probably be okay.”

Seven input, “The Klingons would not hold disguise against us. Since they also practice certain kinds of deceits. As long as it is honorably done, they can not complain. On the other hand, truth is easier.”

“What do you think Epatai?”

“I think I agree with Voyager and Seven. Besides,” she grimaced, “I'm not my mother. That whole personal slave thing would drive me nuts. I'm more of an equal opportunity kind of Klingon.”

Kathryn eyed B'Elanna and gave her a quirky smile. It had helped to see their mates. “I don't know, I think in certain circumstances...”

The Klingon slugged Kathryn's arm softly.

“Hah. Fine. Then I get to be the cowboy captain and you get to be the boss of the family. Just like usual. Only... more flamboyantly, I think.”

“Yes. Exactly. You know, one thing about the trials... Everything points to bringing Honor to the House. But it's done with... Emphasis.” Voyager said it with some enthusiasm.

Laren, who had been listening, spoke up, “Which is probably what our fundamental guide to our actions ought to be while there, as has been pointed out before. Everything we do should be to enhance the House and affirm our Honor. Everything and it should be a bit extravagant, obvious. Pointed, you might say. That's what our mates and parents are doing and it seems to be working for them. Or we wouldn't have all those files on 'what to do about the Presba Problem.' And boy, if they think they have a problem now, wait till they get a load of us.”

The women started snickering, which turned into a chortle, which turned into a laugh. When they settled down, it was still with a bit of mirth and Laren continued. “When we first arrive, we ought to go in as if we're returning from the dangerous, dark, space-jungle of the Delta Quadrant. If we come in contact with anyone, the story, which is true, by the way, will be reflected in our every act, our every impulse. They'll feel it, even if it's just subconscious. We will be... what we are.”

“From the Wild West. With our spurs still on and ready to shoot anyone who looks at us wrong.”

“The Orion Syndicate in particular.” B'Elanna hissed and stabbed the kitchen knife into the counter, then scooped the vegetables and replicated fake meat into a bowl. It was her turn to make the meal and she'd decided to actually do more than replicate this time. The others were just keeping her company. “Could you believe that bastard?”

“She killed him.”

“He didn't die long enough.”

None of them could honestly argue the point. There was one point on which they were all implacably aligned. The Orion Syndicate could not suffer enough. Honor would guide them, but ...

Tuvok walked in and apparently Voyager had been letting him listen in on the conversation. She'd taken to doing that sometimes, when the family got on a roll. “I think you'll need to be on the Bridge, Epatai, when we go in. Especially if we manage to emerge in the Beta or Alpha Quadrant.”

“The amazing thought is that it is possible. We might actually make it, based on what the new people have shown us.” B'Elanna lit the contents in the wok on fire, and spun the food around for a bit, before covering it. “Should I wear a cape?”

“No capes.”

“I was thinking something in red.”

“No capes. We'll all wear our uniforms, if we're on duty. And if you're on the Bridge, you're on duty. But we'll make a special plug so you can plant your Bat’leth in the ground besides you like Miral at the court. Chakotay will just have to give up his seat for a bit.” Kathryn flicked the knife so that it wobbled and grinned wickedly. “Ought to give anyone who sees you a bit of a pause.”

“Ooh. I like it.”

“Also, I'm thinking some other adjustments, since we've already made some major ones. Bat’leths on the wall type things. Banners and crests and maybe symbolic skulls of the aliens we've defeated. Did anyone ever figure out how to get décor on the corridor plate?”

“There have been a couple of ideas. Someone suggested holographs.”

“I like it. Let's test out feasibility. Do something appropriately mixed, since we're Federation, but something impressive enough to keep any unexpected guests, busy and inspired by the visuals.” She blinked and shook her head at what she was about to suggest. “I hate to say it, but... talk to Tom, Harry and Steve. I am absolutely positive that they'll have some ideas.”

Laren groaned. “Prophets, you're right. I'll get on it to...”

“...morrow.” Kathryn said firmly. “Barring success in assassination, which we can not control, we now know our mates are alive. And well. Which gives us time to do this right. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

There was a burble from somewhere near the floor. Kathryn looked down. “Well and who's a good girl. Look at you crawling.” She picked up Emina, who was only now beginning to display some fine delicate ridges on her forehead. Kathryn kissed the implant on Emina's brow and smiled at her baby girl. “Soon, my darling, you will see a whole other Universe and we'll be kicking some ass. Won't that be exciting?” Emina gave her a happy, laughing smile and waved her fists in enthusiasm.

==^==

It was Neelix who made the suggestion. “You need to take war prizes with you. You know, Pelts of mysterious dangerous beasts. Baubles and Treasure. Trade goods that have been taken, with honor, of course.”

“Things that they wouldn't find in the Alpha Quadrant,” Steve added. “Things that smack of... adventure in far lands.”

“The problem being that we are Starfleet. We don't have Pelts, and I'm not comfortable with the notion of just going and fetching some. Trade goods, baubles and treasure do have a nice ring to them. That seems like something we can do already. Perhaps we can utilize the replicators for the pelts. Especially since I'm the one who suggested symbolic skulls. We've had plenty of adventure, surely we can come up with something appropriate. Perhaps, holoprograms based on our encounters. See what you can find that will bring Honor to the ship and the House.

“Klingons are impressed by scars and we're not exactly wearing any. Which is due to our very fine Doctors. So we ought to... well... Not lose any limbs or anything. But Chakotay has the most ... uh... markings... of us all.” Tom said. The look he got wasn't reassuring. “Or, barring that, we ought to have our historical records definitely reflecting the battles we've faced and have won. They should be easily tappable.”

“We could put recordings on the wall, like holographic replays of the greater battles.”

“Too busy, bound to make someone space sick.”

“Then make them voice activated, specific to the recording. And leave a captured image as an indication of what the file is about. You know, it might even boost crew morale to see a collection. We've been through a lot.”

“I like that idea better. Check with our creative types and get their help with it.”

“The Marine compliment should have their own banner, with the Presba crest as a sigil. But something scary and inspiring.” Harry said.

“Talk with Commander Tucker. Also, talk with our Sofuru and Commander Veckma and see if they want something similar. I'm not opposed as long as the Starfleet Colors and Pips remain prime on the uniform.”

“Hide nothing, but reveal nothing important,” commented Chakotay. “Everything should appear to be so obvious that it wouldn't occur to them to look deeper than we want them to.”

“Work on it,” commanded the captain. “Bring your ideas to Lieutenant Ro and she'll start coordinating.” She leaned forward. “And my dear Joking Trio, I am trusting you to act in Honor of the House. Klingons like a good practical joke, but don't do the kind of thing that will besmirch us. Understand? If you plan something coordinate with Commander Veckma.”

==^==

Guinan, who was dressed in blue robes and another incredibly tall hat, walked serenely in front of a group of children. The children were of both genders and various ages and temperaments. They walked not quite as serenely behind her, but kept up. There was a great deal of trepidation to be had in moving to a new and mysterious place.

The Estate Presba had opened up another fairly large building next to their main home specifically as the first residence for the children. They would open up other buildings, homes, as it was deemed necessary. But they wanted to start out small so they could be as hands-on as possible for the kids.

Unfortunately, the Prime of the House Presba on the Estate did have other obligations, as they were – on a smaller scale – Empire Building.

Guinan had been a godsend. Not only did she act as counselor to the counselor. She also took on the charge of being there and of helping them in these new endeavors. They weren't sure why, but they were very grateful.

People were hired for the new addition and preparations made in hopes of providing a good home, care and education for the children. They knew that they were looking at somehow blending their own sensibilities, with a particularly Klingon emphasis. But they figured the not so mysterious person would not have asked this of them if he had not trusted them.

So they worked hard and hoped for the best. When twenty young people had been delivered to their doorstep, they were somewhat prepared for it.

Guinan was also the one who suggested that they make their small world an arts center. It wasn't like there were too many of those these days in the Beta Quadrant. With Qo'nos as devastated as it had been, nothing had quite risen up to replace what was lost. And they did have a someone who was an artist. Guinan believed that if they created the opportunity then perhaps it would bring in those individuals whom the ... person... was trying to improve. After all, Klingon Houses supported the arts.

It was, the women had realized, a very good idea.

So they they took one of the empty colony buildings and designated it a theater and arts center. And a different one they designated a studio school. The idea seemed to match with the influx of the children. And they could build as they went along. The key would be bringing in the teachers and the artists. To that end, they looked to Phoebe.

“But I don't know any Klingon artists.”

“Who said they had to be Klingon?” Guinan asked reasonably. “If you bring in a few from other worlds, the Klingons will show up at your doorstep on their own, just to check out the competition.”

“Oooh. I like the way you think,” Phoebe cooed.

Guinan nodded sagely.

So Phoebe made some contact with friends in the Alpha Quadrant. Not all of them were enthused with the idea of picking up and leaving home, but a few were into adventure – even at the risk of crossing through dangerous territory. Her invitees didn't exactly arrive in droves, but she did manage to lure a holo-director, a painter, a sculptor, and a dancer and some of their good friends.

On the whole, the women of the House Presba thought it was a decent start.


	15. Chapter 15

Captain Janeway called in the sensitives, the counselors and the shamans. “Counselor Nael will be in charge of this little project. Truth Seekers are beings of status in the other Universe and we intend to take advantage of the fact that we have a good handful of you. You'll be reviewing the files and the videos and, if you are of the House, you're going to be expected to behave in ways that reflect Honor in the pursuit of truth and I want you to make up new, better rules. Those of you with other, similar occupations will also be called on to create new...,” and she nodded to the shamans, “... or ancient parts.”

“The reason for this is that what we plan on doing is going to a place where it's kind of a mixed bag. On the one hand, the ruling class, the Klingons, respect strength and power. From a certain perspective they can be barbarous,' She lifted her lips in a non-smile to reveal the sharp blades of her fangs, then frowned into a bit of a glower and tilted her head meaningfully. “But so can we, these days. We also know they love ritual and that they crave the higher path to go with the passion. We want to be squarely on that higher path when we go in and we want to impress the heck out of them, make them dizzy with who and what we are. While I don't want to stress us out with over-planning, we only have us. And I do want to have enough preparation to make this a good journey for us, whatever the outcome.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

“I've already been discussing plans with security, the squadrons and our marines the kinds of plans that need to be in place. The thing is, we're all feeling a bit put out with a certain Syndicate and it's possible we may come into contact with them first – based on the speculations of our scientists and engineers. We're still tweaking settings on the new unit, but the first try out may take us into outer edge of the alternate Alpha Quadrant near Bajoran space and one of the syndicate hideouts. The choice was made simply because it's a known location by our most recent crewmen.

“Unfortunately for the Syndicate, we are not happy with them. I worry that our tempers might lead us to make mistakes if we come in contact with them unprepared. Because of the work Miral Torres, Gretchen Janeway, Lwaxana Troi and T'Pel of Vulcan have done to insure Honor to the House Presba in Universe Beta, we can not afford those kinds of mistakes. Especially if their effort has been... as noted positively as we think it has been.”

The captain clasped her hands in front of her on her desk. She looked squarely at all of them for emphasis. Then continued. “Thus we depend upon you. When and if we go after one of the Orion Syndicates hideout, we'll be taking you with us. It will be your job to preserve the lives of the innocent from those of us, myself included, who are feeling a bit more bloody minded than usual. Some of us may not be able to see them without you. So you are our buffer and their saviors. You will need to be very strong. You will need to be Truth Seekers and Defenders of our Honor. You will also need to be up on your physical training and fighting skills and whatever other skills you may employ. You may need your whole bag of tricks, because it will be a balancing act if they resist. I am not in a particularly merciful mood and you may have your work cut out for you.”

One of the Zakeeri shamans, a vibrant red-headed female, indicated a need for attention. She wore one of Voyager's uniforms, black jacket and the science blue patch. But on her shoulder was also a patch with the emblem of her clan and on her belt and in her pockets were items of power as well as her phaser and blade.

“Yes, Orsas.”

She looked at her mates, Agesu and Enuet, who were also red-headed, male and female, and dressed in similar ways. “We believe that our latest crew members need the opportunity to join the House. They've been with us long enough to understand what it means. And it would be good to do this before we go to the other Universe.”

Kathryn considered, “It's not up to me Orsas. I'll ask the Epatai.”

Orsas tried to make it clearer. “It is... important. There are those who did not take the Oath who are ready now. And our Orions and those who were freed need to know they are secure in your hearts and have a place to call Home. Then they will be able to join us as true Truth Seekers, true Marines and true Voyagers.

“The Orions, you should know are like us. We have spoken with them and learned much,” She pointed to herself and her mates. “They are sensitive, but have hidden it, because it is easy for those who do not know to mock traditions, because they think Orions only make slaves. But Our Orions would be good Truth Seekers, Shamans and Marines. Our Orion Truth Seekers will know who is to be trusted, who is innocent and who should be saved. Our Orion Marines will know who needs to be tried and who needs to be immediately put down and can act as a secondary guard to the blood lust.” Kathryn Janeway blinked and knew that the shaman understood, completely. Orsas continued. “If you use our Orions as sight lines to your bow, they will help you to shoot true.”

'Our Orions,' Kathryn thought in some wonder. She felt a guilty squeeze in her chest, realizing that she had let an unconscious prejudice keep her from gaining knowledge about the still mysterious people. And she realized it might be a flaw in the Federation that, as far as she knew, no one had really pursued a deeper knowledge of the culture. All they knew was that there were pheromones involved and Orions were either Syndicate or Slave – and it took someone from the Delta Quadrant to point out the error. After all, there hadn't been a pheromonal problem on her ship at all. At least... nothing that wasn't consensual. And her Orions had proved to be good people.

Kathryn nodded. “Thank you, Orsas. My eyes are opened.”

The Zakeeri nodded, satisfied. “I have another suggestion. Give them a mark. Not a patch, but a mark upon their bodies, so they will know they are of your House, Mark them as your Truth Seekers, your Marines, your Shamans. My mates and I will tell you who.”

“You're asking me to...”

“It is a hidden tradition among their people. A way of distinguishing who is clan and who is clanless. If they have a mark, they are of a clan. And each mark means something. So there would be the clan mark and the status mark.”

“Bajorans just wear earrings,” Kathryn muttered. But she understood. “If we do this, we'll make it optional for others, if they desire. Someone else made a similar, if less directed, suggestion. I'm sure he'll want one. But I have ... no idea where to even begin.”

“We will help, Captain.”

The captain turned to Counselor Nael. “After this meeting, would you and Orsas, Agesu and Enuet, please stay and talk to me a bit about our Orions. I will call in B'Elanna and we'll get this ball rolling.”

“Of course,” said the Betazoid.

Orsas merely nodded.

==^==

“So,” said Miral, as she deftly removed another bit of Gretchen's diaphanous outfit. “You think your daughter is on her way.”

Gretchen was standing still, letting herself be undressed and caressed in an agonizingly slow way. Sometimes her Klingon liked to tease. “Correction, my mate. I know she is on her way. The question is when and how she will get here. And even then, it's not much of a question.”

Another piece of fabric fluttered to the floor, and Miral brushed up sensually against Gretchen's back. Her hands scooped around to play a moment with the Human's sensitive breasts, and her fingertips lovingly rubbed taut, flushed nipples. Gretchen unconsciously leaned back, trusting. “What do you mean, BangwI?”

“Aside from the fact that there is the equivalent of a brain trust on that ship, there is the fact that the Orion Syndicate is aligning itself stupidly. Probability speaking, they are trying or have tried again. If they are using the Delta quadrant as their playground and they are anywhere near where my daughter is...” She moaned. “Don't stop.”

Miral brushed her lips against her mate's neck. Her hands continued their gentle torment. “She will find them. Or they will make their own.”

“It is a matter of time.” Gretchen confirmed. Her hands covered Miral's, not to guide, but to hold.

“And this is why you haven't pressured me to find a way.”

Gretchen turned in Miral's arms. “No. Miral. That is not the reason.” She raised up on her toes and kissed her Klingon with each phrase. “The reason is that I trust you. If you decided it was safer to be here, rather than there, then I trust you. If you decided that this is part of why we are the way that we are, and we have a sacred mission to set things right, then I trust you. If you decided that it was time to go and steal a Syndicate ship I would go with you because I trust you. You are my mate. And you have my heart. And my absolute, unequivocal trust. Getting back to the other Universe is not first in my mind. You are. Wherever you are, is where I want to be.”

Miral groaned, “Gretchen.” Then she picked the woman up and kissed her with everything she had. This Janeway was so different than that Torres, though she'd still loved him even in his error – enough to keep his name. Hearts could be that way. Now, though, she knew, her heart was turned in a better direction. Miral carried her woman, who was still half dressed, to bed. She laid her down gently, then sat besides her. “And what of our daughters?”

“Is it not obvious, Miral? They too trust you. And love you. Do not doubt that you have earned it. We're still alive and free, are we not? I know I am more free than many other humans in this Universe and I get to be with the one I love. Not many can say that.” Gretchen reached up and touched her Klingon's face. “Perhaps Martok said it best. Our daughters and ourselves would not have thought to do any different. We are the House Presba, Honor to the House.” The human stroked Miral's cheek. “It is good to be who we are, because we stand up to the darkness and shake our fist boldly at it. Every day I am reminded how lucky I am.” She smiled warmly at her beloved. “So kiss me, my mate. Love me until I call your name to the stars. I am yours in all ways and always. I trust you with my life.”

Miral said the Human's name like a benediction, then kissed her mate who reached for her.

Then they loved each other until the stars sang back to them.

==^==

Inan was beautifully featured, tall and buxom. Her skin was the green of summer grass. Her hair was deep forest green and long, braided down her back till it reached almost her hips. She walked with ferocious dignity. Her eyes, were like forests themselves. A person could get lost in them. And, of note to Janeway, she smelled sweet. Not at all offensive, like Kathryn had read in books. She smelled like live being and a hint of good memories.

The Orion wore the blue of Voyager's science and medical department with pride. She wore one of the miniskirt versions of the uniform, black on black, with a stripe instead of a patch. Her medical tricorder and phaser were at her belt and she had a knife in a sheath in her right boot. Kathryn Janeway had no doubt, looking at her, that she could do damage.

They all stood respectfully as the Orion entered, Kathryn Janeway, Priam Nael, Orsas of the Shamans of House Presba, and B'Elanna Torres.

The captain nodded warmly, “Welcome Inan and thank you for coming to this meeting. Would you please join us and have a seat.”

The Orion's voice was warm, soft. There was nothing rough or wild about it. She said, “Thank you, Captain. I would be honored.”

Kathryn was the last to seat herself as she waited for everyone to get settled. “Inan, I called you in here because it was brought to my attention that your people have a need. My Epatai has a few questions for you. Would you be willing to answer them?”

The cautious expression on Inan's face turned to hope. “Captain, I would love to answer them.”

==^==

Later, the captain spoke with Chakotay in the Ready Room.

They were about to go down to the Holodeck. The inter-universal transport team had called say they were prepared to do a demonstration. There had been some real progress made in the navigation and installation process. They believed they had it refined enough to make the jump.

They were discussing something completely different while they waited for the final ready confirmation. “Well, we've got room more people, but we need to consider how survivors – if we find them – will be blended into the crew. We're stretching ourselves as it is, given the influx of people. We've got the set up, but I worry about time. Say, we rescue thirty, that's probably fine. Maybe even a hundred. The crew can integrate them. But three hundred? With kids? That might be a problem.”

Kathryn didn't wave him off. It was something she'd considered. “Well, when we make our target, it's not likely that we'll find more than a handful of worthies. The particular hideout we're looking at is not where they,” her expression twisted in distaste, “breed their slaves. On the other hand, if we should come across a major rescue site, I am hoping we'll have some other options. One of our Orions, Inan, who is acting as the current matriarch for the group,” now her expression quirked in self effacing humor, “pointed out we would potentially have the ability to move not just between Universes, but quadrants. We could return to Voyager's Rest and survivors would have a safe haven with the House Presba there.”

Chakotay blinked. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Neither had I, until it was pointed out. It should have been obvious, given the express purpose of the invention of the unit, but... my mind has been ... occupied.”

Chakotay nodded sagely. “When did you say the ceremony was going to be held?”

“We have two more days before contact with the Federation again. I'd like to definitely have the Orions on our side on a more solid basis, and the solution is something that B'Elanna does not oppose. I was surprised by how... enthusiastic the Orions were about joining us as an actual clan. What I'm about to tell you, is for your ears only because you're the first officer. This isn't something that should be shared with everyone. I will need to have some sincere talks with Inan before she's ready for this information to be shared with Starfleet. They trust us on Voyager, not necessarily the Federation.” She gave Chakotay a warning look.

The Native American nodded easily. “I understand, Kathryn.” And he really did. After all his tribe had similar issues.

“Apparently, House Presba's particular structure is very important to them. It rings of home. The Orions are a clan based, matriarchal society and still somewhat tribal. You might think of them as being much like Betazed, only... younger. They were, though, well on their way to becoming similarly matured society until the Federation showed up.

“Now this group of Orions are from the mirror Universe, but Seven speculates that one of the reasons the Orions in our Universe resisted the Federation so long was because they were also in a similar stage and twofold. First, we caused a serious rift in their culture and two they couldn't relate our structure to their experience.

“When the Federation found them, they thought we were all barbarians, because there were no close family ties on board any of the exploratory ships. It was absolutely insane to them that these cranky, dangerous, single individuals would go out – without any deeper alignment than a common interest. Then, these wonderful discoverers, decided that these Orions were savages and treated them accordingly. So the Orions did what they had to survive. They believed the Federation was ... barbaric, especially because our people actually bought the slaves. And remember, members of the Federation did this for centuries, by which time it was an established industry in both Universes. Though some Orions volunteered, in order to protect their family, try to gain power or shift the internal workings of the enemy, most Orion clans were torn apart, due to unadulterated greed!” Kathryn paused to gather her temper back into line.

She smiled weakly at Chakotay. “Sorry, my friend. The point is that the Federation was lucky they didn't declare war on the lot of us. But that's probably because of the horrific rivalry between the Free Traders and the Syndicate. The Orions were too busy with internal politics, which were apparently vicious. More than we ever knew. In our Universe the Free Traders won, but the Syndicate lived on, mafia-like. By the time things resolved, the Federation had shaped up, mostly. By then, though, the Orions had no reason to trust the Federation and the Federation just never admitted to doing something so horrible as encouraging slave trade. It was all the Syndicate's fault. Which it was, but the Federation was culpable.”

Janeway sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose lightly. Then she focused on her friend again. “And now this group of Orions, happens to be freed by the one and only Federation starship that has a captain who is part of a House and several clan-based units and so on. And we're on what the Orions perceive as a high calling, sacred mission – to get our own back. It was, apparently, a revelation. By the time they considered trying to take over the ship via their usual methods, they had come to like and respect us and what we were trying to accomplish. You see, they could relate.”

Then she laughed, “And here's a tidbit you won't find in Federation medical journals. Turns out that they can tailor their pheromones. If an Orion female happens to like females...”

“You're kidding.”

“I am not.” She raised a two finger scouts salute. “'struth. They don't just whiff them out willy nilly either. Which is why we've had no problems with them. More, the Orions can alter its effects. And, like my mates and I in particular, they also form mated bonds. That's what the pheromones were originally for. Inan says I and my mates exude our own, when...” Now Kathryn blushed. But she had already decided not to hide. “... when the fire in us starts and that it probably bonds us closer.” She cleared her throat and continued on the main point. “So... imagine, if you will, your mate being sold. Much like ... my mates were kidnapped. The Orions feel the tear in their fabric just as much as ...” She went grimly, silent and Chakotay gave her a moment.

Then she drew in a breath and said, “They hate the Orion Syndicate. And I have to say, I hate the PetaQs even more today than I did yesterday.”

She sighed. “And, of course, all my illusions about Orions in general, well a good deal of them anyway, have just been shattered. That animal woman idea we were raised with as kids? Pure canard. They're like us. Just like us. They put on a show to protect who and what they could from predators. And if it had been reversed we would have done the same.” She shivered, as a thrill of rage passed through her. “I know that my mother and one of my mates have done it. And I agree with their decision, since it apparently has saved our family members' lives. And, if I thought that it would save the ship, every human would be wearing slave garb as soon as we went into the other Universe. But... I tend to agree with you and my other best minds, that we have to go with our strengths.”

She was speaking sharply, a little too staccato. She brought her tone down, and considered her youthful hands in meditation. Then she looked back at her friend and gave him a wry grimace. “Once again we see that scientific observation can be led by one's original prejudices and expectations and if it starts off on a bad assumption, well it can screw you. Makes one want to throttle those back-in-the day 'researchers.”

Their comm badges beeped. “Janeway Here.”

“The demonstration is ready Captain.”

Kathryn nodded to Chakotay. “We're on our way. Janeway out.” Then she patted her friend on the shoulder just before they exited and smiled ruefully. “I do believe that injustice gets my dander up, Chakotay. I do not know how I am going to behave myself in the other Universe.”

Chakotay chuckled. “You'll behave like the fine officer you are. Trust me, you'll do what needs to be done. And we will follow.” They walked quietly for a moment or two, checking things on the Bridge before leaving. Then, as they entered the Turbolift he said, “On a different topic, are you going to tell the Federation how much progress we've made?”

“The truth is, I have been trying not to think about it. I worry about what they'll say, that they'll try and order us straight home. I would end up breaking a direct order if that were the case.”

Her first officer nodded. “May I make a suggestion then? Don't tell them. Don't bring it up. Tell them we're making some headway, if they happen to ask. But since they don't know we found the Orion Syndicate ship... Just.. don't tell them. Let them make their own assumptions.”

“I'll think on it. It just... goes against the grain.” They exited the turbolift and made their way to the Holodeck.

They stopped outside the Holodeck and Chakotay pressed the entry button. “If the worry that they'll order you home doesn't convince you, think about this. We know that there have been infiltrators in the Federation. We know the Federation has certain other problems with factions and priorities. Imagine this engine in their hands. Imagine what they would do. Why do you think they really wanted you to go after it? Do you think, aside from Admiral Paris, that they are really that interested in rescuing your family?”

“Chakotay,” she started.

He grasped her shoulder and then let go. “I was Maquis for a reason Kathryn. Remember, the Federation sold my people's home world to the Cardassians.” His words hit her doubly hard, given what she had discovered about the Orions. Her expression was bleak and he gave her a disquieting look.

“I will consider it.”

He nodded and they both entered the Holodeck.

==^==

“I am Vrald,” the elder Klingon stated, as he strode into the small theater. He was a tall man, bushy browed and white haired. His crests were deeply carved into his forehead. He was wearing traditional Klingon armor, with a multicolored metal sash strapped from shoulder to waist. “Who is running this place?” He demanded to know.

A much smaller, younger human male, who was somewhat effeminate even though he was muscular and well built, responded. He brushed his brunette locks back over his ear and said, “I am.”

The Klingon raked an assessing gaze over the other man. “You are the director Carmelo Brooks?”

“I am.”

“Hmmph. I like your work. Not enough blood though.” Vrald looked at the interior of the building and sniffed. “They say you are going to build a great theater here. It doesn't look like much to me.”

“Well, we just got here. And, we are in the planning stages. I already told the House Presba that this building would make a great minor stage, but what we really needed was... something bigger. They have this cavern that would make a great amphitheater. It just needs to be... wait...Why are you interested?”

“I wish to participate in building the theater. When I heard that one was to be built, I knew I had to come. I am an architect.”

Now the director gave the Klingon a closer examination and he smiled. “Oh really. Well,” he reached his arm around the bigger man's shoulders. “Why don't you come with me and we'll chat. I can tell you our budget and you can tell me how we can make the dream come alive.”

==^==

It took time to come up with the marks. A design team was formed from the artists on Voyager. It was explained that they needed a series of marks that were similar in purpose to the pips – only this time about House, relation and station. They started with the House Crest and began building marks that indicated the relationship to the House. A specific tag was made for the Epatai and the Captain, since they both held unique ranks. The Prime family mark was different from the subunit family marks. Aligned marks were different from family marks. Station marks were designed specifically for the Orions, who felt the need for it. It would follow the simple colors of Starfleet, with icons indicating the specifics.

Sigils were also created for the departments and callings of those on the ship. The Marines would use the symbol they created for their flag. The Squadron would use theirs. And, of course, they would use the usual patches and pips.

As predicted, there were those who, while they had no interest in becoming House Presba, had an interest in trying something new. Some had memorials to their experience in the Delta Quadrant placed on their body. Others went for the more venerable types. But even then, it wasn't the whole crew falling into the fad, just a few who found the notion appealing.

All of those who were rescued joined the House. Those who were not Orion in origin had their own reasons, but mostly it was that where they came from, a Klingon House was a power. And, since they were going back free people, they wanted to stay that way. Joining the House would act as a guarantee and they were more than willing to take on the obligation. The ceremony was held in one of the Holodecks. Once again knives were drawn across palms and the Oath given. The shouts afterwards would have rocked a seagoing ship.

==^==

“Hello Kate.”

“Kathryn.”

“Hold out.”

“It just... didn't feel right.”

“No. I expect it didn't. You instinctively know your ceremony will be as long and sweet and hot as we can possibly make it for you. And Kate, I guarantee it will be.”

The good doctor blushed hard enough that her freckles stood out. Kathryn continued, “When we get there, you make sure you're always in the company of one of us. Always, Kate. Don't test me on this.”

“Are you kidding? Think of who you're talking to. And yes, I'll make sure I go with one of you lot. I figured that you had a secondary reason for all this stuff. You always do. Though I'm gratified that you do remember where you started from. I was beginning to worry. Presba House isn't the end all, be all. There's a reason some of us joined Starfleet you know.”

Kathryn chuckled at that. “I know. But it'll make a nice disguise for some while we're dealing with strangers from another Universe.”

“Hmmph.” Kate grumped. “I got people visiting me every half hour for one of those skin jobs. I'm a doctor, not a tattoo artist. Oh wait. Now I am. Thanks a lot, Captain.”

Kathryn chortled. “God I love you. You always were an artist. One of the things I love about you. Are you going to be at the Long Table tonight?”

“I'll be there. Just don't expect me to be all fluttery joy. My fingers will have been worked to the bone and I'll have been on my feet all day.”

“We'll keep the Gagh live for you.”

“Oh. Thank you. Thank you so very much. Go away Kathryn. You're bothering me.”

“I surely hope so.”

==^==

“Vrald is here. Not just any Vrald, but the Vrald.” Phoebe was saying. “You know, the guy who created the new Medical Building on Towaka. The guy who designed the Kathenti Spire on Ula'sok!”

Her hands were passing on a different message. They don't want us to tell you, but relations between the Klingon Empire and the Federation have gotten viciously strained. They're getting real close to an actual cutting of ties. We don't know if we'll be able to communicate with you then. But Ambassador Worf is working on something in case. We plan on staying here. And if that happens, Asil's brothers will join us, except for Sek who'll watch out for our business in the Alpha Quadrant. He and his wife have... adapted, if you know what I mean, and think they can pass there for awhile. If you want to hear from some Klingons some day, you might give us a call sign to reach you by.

Kathryn replied, “I am going to break your heart, here, Phoebe, but you are talking gibberish to me. I have no idea who this guy is. But if it makes you happy, it makes me happy.”

Kathryn's hands said, I thought something was up. Paris was hinting hard that we ought to say ... meaningful things while we still could. Now I know why. Hang on for a call sign.

She turned to B'Elanna. “Right Epatai?”

“Oh sure, sure.” B'Elanna said. She smiled warmly. “Tell Asil, Deanna and Barin we love them. And I guess ... uh... Auloh too. Right?”

B'Elanna's hands gave the code they would use. Then she signed, We will be thinking of you, while we're away. Be brave and, if it comes to it, fight with honor.

“You'll adore Auloh when you meet her. She's our Klingon expert. We wouldn't know what to do without her. Oh, and you'll love our other kids too.”

Phoebe signed, Got it. Love you. Do you want us to do anything special. OH, yeah, one more thing... The Chancellor, via Worf, has .. uh... ordered the House Primes to have babies as soon as possible. I passed on the message that it'd be about a year before I could even think of it. But, he's real pleased with you guys. Just thinks there's not enough... bloodline, I guess. I'm still confused. But ... just passing it on. Thought it was funny as hell.

Kathryn looked thunderstruck. She cleared throat, “Other kids?”

She signed. Well, at least we have a little leeway. It is comical, but, makes sense from a Klingon House building perspective. Maybe we'll surprise ourselves.

“Yep, we've got twenty in Edward Janeway Hall right now. We've got an studio arts building and martial training grounds. Oh, and they made us set up a Town Hall and everything. We're going to have to name the town here in a bit. There are that many people coming here.”

Phoebe signed, Katie, I don't have any prospects. But yeah, given our lives recently, who knows?

B'Elanna took note. “Are you kidding me?” She signed, If you find someone worthy, don't wait for my approval. You can check with Asil.

“Nope, we've got people ... not in droves mind you... but there are some serious colonist here who are waving the House Presba flag. We haven't... uh... inducted anyone yet. We figured, well, what with the kids and all, unless it was really special, we'd wait and see. The kids, are in. But everyone else, we want to see if they pass muster. You know?”

LOL.

“I do. Just let Asil know I trust her judgment. And if you pick a name for the town, make it one that works a hundred years from now. Prosper the House and do that which honors it.” B'Elanna blinked. “You know, what I can't believe is that it's me of all people saying that.” She smiled and shook her head ruefully. “Say, do you have beaches on that planet?”

“We do. Absolutely gorgeous this time of year. And we've some great forests. We sent a file with some pictures. Before and after. You know?”

The captain signed, Be aware, we're going to be taking off here in a bit. You may not hear from us for awhile.

“Excellent.” Continued the Epatai, “Talk to this Vrald guy. Tell him we're interested in creating a resort. Our only requirement is that one of the main dining establishments have a really, really long table. One that runs indoors and outdoors. We'll tell you why later.”

Phoebe signed, You've found a way?

“A resort? Are you kidding me? But...” She looked thoughtful. “You know, that may not be a bad idea. These Klingons, they like to party.”

The captain signed, A solid way. We're sending all the files your way. With certain specs, just in case. Very encrypted. Look at the pictures of the kids.

“Just keep the decor multi-cultural and sturdy. Plan for if-it-breaks in the budget. And, you know, set up Holodecks. Klingons have... hearty appetites, if you get what I mean. You know... uh... check with, who was Ro talking about the other day?”

B'Elanna signed, We're sending more names for the rosters, but don't submit them for four months, or until you hear back from us. The coordinates for Voyager's Rest are included in the files. That is House Presba territory. If we come back to the Delta Quadrant, that's where we'll be starting off.

Kathryn looked thoughtful. “Quake? Quack?... No... uh, it was Quark. There's a Ferengi on DS9, named Quark...”

Phoebe signed, Holy crap, you really are going. My God. Be safe. Come home to us.

“Quark? He's famous in the Beta Quadrant. He's the first Ferengi to ever marry a Klingon. Carmelo plans on making an opera about it.”

Kathryn signed, We'll get our family back or die trying, sis. Love you.

Phoebe struggled to keep the facade, but it was hard. It took everything she had to keep smiling. “I'm sure it will be fantastic. He's a great artist.”

Kathryn smiled softly, “I'm sure he'll bring Honor to the House.”

B'Elanna signed, We'll be back. Don't worry. Pass the love on. We adore you.

Now Phoebe's face crumpled and her voice became a bit watery. “Oh, now they're really waving me off. I'm going to have to go. I love you. Asil and Deanna and Barin love you. We long for your return.”

“Love you too, Pheebes. Have fun with all the building.”

“Hah!” She looked like she was about to say more when the screen abruptly cut off.


	16. Chapter 16

When the transmission was done, Kathryn and B'Elanna went straight to sickbay and got their marks; one exclusive one for the Epatai and one for the Captain.

Kathryn looked down at her shoulder. “You know, Phoebe has three of these things. I made terrible fun. She is so going to razz me.”

“Good,” sparked Dr. Pulaski as she put away her tools. “You need a take down or two.”

“Boy, you were right Kathryn, she just doesn't quit, does she.” B'Elanna said with some amusement as she rubbed her own arm. It didn't hurt. It just felt odd to know there was something new and shimmery there.

“Well, just wait, there's a side benefit to it. She'll be able to keep up with us. I guarantee it.”

“Oh my God. Get out of my Sickbay!” As they were exiting the area she shouted out, “And haven't you guys ever heard of taking a body out on a date first?!”

Kathryn turned, actually grinning for once. “So. You'd say yes? I'll be sure and tell Seven.” Then she ducked and hurried out the door as the outrage and the tricorder went flying.

==^==

Once again they decided to wait until the next full ship's day before setting off. Except for the bare bones duties that the ship required, everyone was given time off to prepare themselves. The shamans, all six of them now – since the Orions bowed to the Zakeeri preference of multiples – went around blessing Voyager from stem to stern. They made marks that glowed and disappeared into surface of the ship. Then they went and did the same to the smaller ships, from Singing Sparrow to the Transport ship. Then they went and blessed the armory and medical bay, the engine room, and other specific places and things on the ships.

No one commented on the effort. There were just some things that did not hurt to do and one never knew what might make the difference.

Voyager personally felt a bit of impatience. She felt confident and able. All systems were up and go and she was excited about the adventure. The smaller ships, those that also had sentience had similar thoughts. But, even so, Voyager and Singing Sparrow opted to spend quality time together. Their latest discussion related to the fact that the doctor was a living holographic entity. And Voyager had access to the Holodeck...

Warriors of various races have their own way of preparing.

The Ylfians threw a party in the Park. It was a full blow out Barb-be-que, with everyone invited. Quite a few Voyagers went. The Zakeeri joined the Ylfians at the party. There they introduced the Voyagers to what they did when preparing for a big battle. There was the call and the return. There were the story fires. The Klingons loved it and joined in full, which led the Kazon to do the same.

The Orions were planning on throwing the party after the battle, which they knew was coming. They gathered for the blessing, then the matriarch's word, and then went their separate ways to prepare.

The Kutwutchu were a behind the scenes kinds of people. Ask them to build an engine, they were there with enthusiasm. Ask them to point a gun, they could do it, but it wasn't their preference. But they joined the party, cooked the food and played with the rest of the crew with joy.

The Prime of House Presba joined the party for a little while, then went home to spend time with their children. They held them, listened to them, played games and generally enjoyed their company until bedtime. Then the adults spent quality time just talking and cuddling and bonding in quieter ways before heading to bed themselves.

==^==

The Qo'nos that Miral, Gretchen, Lwaxana and T'Pel visited was vibrantly beautiful. Oh, the cliffs were craggy and the surface challenging. But this Qo'nos had never experienced the destruction of Praxis. People hadn't evacuated in droves. It hadn't been attacked by the Dominion. The buildings gleamed in the sun and people filled the walkways.

Those people might have taken a moment to stare, but not for long. They were inhibited by four factors: big strong Klingon guards, a Klingon General, a Truth Seeker and one famous Judge. Smart people did not want attention drawn to themselves at the moment and so they might have looked, but then they hurried on.

General Martok was not taking them to the Seat of the Chancellor. Unfortunately the ruler of the Klingon Empire was not going to be available on this visit. Much to the Chancellor's dismay. But Empires have their needs and Chancellors have their duties.

The women were therefore asked to occupy their time enjoyably once they were done with business. So first they were going to the Hall of Records, where they were going to do some of that paperwork General Martok had been talking about. Then they were going to go to a Klingon Opera in one of the big, beautiful, ancient theaters and visiting some museums and going to one Great House party. Maybe two, if they could squeeze it in. In this Universe there were vast social networks to navigate and the Great Houses were very interested in the up and coming smaller house.

It was full itinerary. But the General wasn't worried about whether they could keep up.

While the exterior of the Hall of Records gleamed, the interior felt very similar to what Lwaxana and T'Pel remembered. This time, however, they didn't need to stop to check directions. They simply followed the General.

He led them to the same small room.

And in that room were, it appeared, the same two gruff elder Klingon gentlemen. Again they both looked up. Again one of them went right back to his paperwork, while the other growled.

This time all four of the women growled right back.

He blinked. And then he grinned. He pointed his finger at them. “I know you! House Presba!”

He poked his companion. “Get the file.” The other guy didn't even look up, just sifted through one pile with one hand and pulled out a sheath with papers in it. Then, when he handed the file to the elder, he looked at the women and the General and the Guards.

“Hmmph.” He picked up a small knife and held it out. “For your signatures.”

Miral grasped the knife by the handle and waited.

The other elder opened their files. “Now, the General here was kind enough to send us a list of names. I expect that's not all there is to the list, I can feel it in my bones,” he grunted. “But it's what we got. Also, we've got papers here, for the Judge to sign, relating to a change in status from level two to grand judge. It's a lifetime duty, so just be prepared.” He looked at Miral and shook his head. “Making them younger every year. But then, maybe you'll last longer.”

“Alright. You sign first. Then you Truth Seeker. Then your mates.”

Miral looked a little faint again, but felt the warm presence of her mate and drew strength from it. She pricked her finger and made her mark.

==^==

Why was there always one? thought Miral. Why must there always be one PetaQ, who must test out the waters? Well, actually, she knew why. Gretchen was extraordinarily beautiful. She'd probably do the same if it were in her nature. But still... it was her mate! The mark was obvious. Everyone knew you didn't sell your mate.

They were in the Great Hall of the House Kor. The party was in full swing and someone had too much blood wine. So they made a demand that she sell her slave. She supposed she ought to take it as a compliment. But she didn't. It just lit her inner workings into rage.

The room had practically gone silent. She was about to reply in her usual way, with a warning and then a killing, when she felt Gretchen grip her forearm. And she looked closely at the man in his cups. So she opted for humor.

This once. She gruffed. “You're too drunk to handle her and she's mine anyway. Go home, Kanath of Kor. Oh, wait. You are home. Find a couch, Kanath. There's no honor in killing you tonight.”

He looked outraged, but the people around him were laughing. Before he could reply, some family member had wrapped their arms around him, plugged another tankard in his hand, and guided the young man away. Perhaps to find that couch.

They were approached by a smiling Klingon woman. “I am B'Etor of the House Duras.” She turned and looked directly at Gretchen. She was one of the few who had done so. “So you're too much for Kanath to handle, eh?”

Gretchen looked at Miral, who nodded. “He has no idea.” Gretchen smiled, slightly, only barely revealing the white of her teeth. It was enough.

“Oh ho! There's more to you than first meets the eye.” B'Etor looked at Miral and then around the crowd. “But anyone should know that by now. You make a fine counselor. I know who to call if I get in trouble.”

Gretchen's eyes widened and then she nodded in acknowledgment.

“House Presba has made a good name for itself. An Honorable one. We admire that. Continue it and perhaps we will talk again. My sister, Lursa, or myself may have a son someday. May your House Prosper.”

“And yours.”

Miral filed away the hidden promise and the new contrast in her mind. She looked at her Gretchen and grinned. She said in Presba Tongue, “Well, we do have two daughters, who are still unmated. They're in a different Universe and he'd be a little young for them, but here, the House Duras is Honorable...”

She ignored the soft punch against her arm.

The next day they set off for Bajor and Terok Nor.

==^==

When Phoebe had commented that things were deteriorating fast, she hadn't realized how fast. That night there were an influx of people, some just visiting and others, who were stuck on the wrong side of the quadrant and had no desire to go “home,” petitioning to stay as residents. Two warships arrived. One was to be stationed to guard over the new Estate, in case some overly zealous Klingons got “ideas.” The captain might not have believed that was the real purpose. Either way he and his men were invited to stay if they wished and to visit on leave at their convenience, by a serene Vulcan, who was accompanied by her daughter Auloh – a very fierce and independent young Klingon, who obviously adored her mother. The whole scene had surprised and charmed Captain Keyv and so his opinion changed from disbelief to belief in his Chancellor's claim, almost overnight.

The other ship was captained by a familiar young man.

“Alexander!” Deanna hadn't screamed it, but she had been joyful when she took him into her embrace.

The dignified young warrior had come a long way from his beginnings. He was tall and broad- shouldered like his father and he too had been raised by humans. At first he had refused to learn anything about Klingon ways, but he had warmed to them eventually when he joined the Klingon Defense Force. Now his men considered him a lucky charm and warriors competed to be on his ship.

He was officially of the House Martok.

There was no conflict between their houses. His father had made the alliance plain. House Presba was supported by House Martok. It did make him wonder when the Mistress of the House Martok would come calling though. She was bound to, given that her curiosity would not be satisfied with having them come to her.

“Mother,” Alexander greeted Deanna in return, embracing her in a strong hold. He was careful not to make it too strong. Recently... recently there had been unsettling changes for him. It had been happening to him since the light. “It is good to see you,” he smiled warmly. “I hope you don't mind that I stopped by. When I heard that you were now part of a House of the Empire, I had to see for myself.”

“I know. It has been a completely unexpected turn of events.” She took him by the hand and stood back, taking the mother's privilege of examining her son. Her gaze narrowed and she inhaled. Then she looked again.

He wondered what she was staring at.

Then she lifted her hand and signed to him.

He responded as if he'd always done so, and shocked himself. 'I love you too, mother.'

“You're Presban. Kahless touched you too.” She began speaking solely in the Presba Tongue.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“We think it follows a ... family line. Even if it's symbolic. The event also picked Naomi Wildman, as Presban, though it bypassed others on Voyager. We're not entirely sure what the originating criteria was, but we think that Seven of Nine was seen as a second mother to the child. And then there is possibly a mating change too. Sek and his wife... have experienced alterations that made them... compatible. But only after… well...Sek bit his wife and blood and saliva were exchanged. We don't know if Presbans will be able to donate blood in the future. And truthfully, no one has done any studies yet. We're sort of making it up as we go along.”

“I am still confused, Mother.”

She gave him a quirky smile. “Alexander, we all are.” She wrapped her arm around his. “But I do know your Father wasn't affected, which might mean that Seven's theory of the maternal line is proving true.” She patted him gently. “It's not what is important to me at the moment, anyway. Here you are. And, you have obviously been touched. And I would have been glad to see you regardless, my son. So let me go introduce you to your family on this side and then we can talk.”

==^==

Humans he'd been around all his life.

He greeted Phoebe Janeway warmly and had the hugging protocol down pat.

But Vulcans. He hadn't really known too many of them. He'd met a few Romulans. They were a passionate people and, when integrated into a Klingon house, fit in well. Or so he heard. The only alien in the Martok House was Dax.

But Vulcans never joined any Klingon house. Until now.

What made the change? Everyone knew Vulcans were pacifists. And Klingons were not pacifists at all. So why would any Vulcan join a Klingon House then? What logical reason would there be?

He couldn't see it and didn't have enough information to ask the questions that he wanted to.

Asil greeted him with calm dignity and did not reach out to hug him, as the others did. He had heard that Vulcans did not like to be touched, but did not know the reason. Alexander figured it was cultural.

There were some human families he knew who never hugged. Not his though. His Human family, the Rozhenkos, were the type to embrace and casually reach out. Touch, touch, touch. They were Russian, after all. Even his Betazed family were that way. He missed Lwaxana, his Grandmother. She was a hugger. And, apparently Phoebe, was a hugger too.

His father, Klingon, was less touchy than the lot of them. Yet, even he reached out, when they were talking.

And here was Asil, now part of this new House that claimed his mother. And perhaps a bit of himself, if Deanna was right. And Asil of the House Presba, a Vulcan, was not a toucher.

It was like waving one of those red capes at a Bull Fight to him.

He held back from doing the Klingon thing of just up and grabbing Asil when he met her, just as a whimsical test to see what she would do. He wasn't sure why the impulse was so strong. And he wondered if his mother crossed that divide and hugged Asil, whom she identified as her step sister. He was still confused at the criss-cross of family relations.

And apparently, he now had Vulcan Uncles as well. He wondered if they hugged. Probably not.

He looked at Asil again, across the dining table. There was something in the way she looked at him when they met, like she had been startled. Maybe she didn't like Klingons. Whatever it had been, she'd covered it up with that neutral expression. He wondered what it would look like if she smiled.

And her scent...

It tickled at the subconscious part of his mind during the whole dinner. He would glance at her, not really intending to look more than a second or two and sometimes find himself lingering, trying to puzzle her out.

He noted that she did contribute to the conversation, adding in facts here, observations there. There was even a hint of dry wit, which was a surprise.

He so wanted to ask if it were true that Vulcans felt nothing at all. He thought that would be a shame, since only machines felt nothing. Wasn't that the lesson of the Borg? No heart to them at all. No passion.

But when looked at Asil, he saw more than mind there. There was fire. He knew it. He felt it.

When the dinner was finished and the time came for him to go back to his ship, he promised to return. And he meant it. There were mysteries to discover about this Asil.

He wondered if she liked flowers.

==^==

The Senior Staff of Voyager met for one last time before embarking.

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the House Presba looked at the extraordinary group of people and nodded inside. They had a chance. A good chance, if things went well. A fair one, if things went poorly. And if things went badly, well, they'd all be dead or caught in some sort of infinite temporal loop.

It seemed like a fair risk to take.

They had reviewed the plan and the secondary plan and she was winding up the session. “Lieutenant Sayr asked me to remind you to expect unusual rocking motions and interesting visual phenomena. He also passes on the request that we be as settled into our stations upon the unit's activation as possible. We don't want anyone to end up as part of Voyager's Hull.” She looked at them again, “Alright then, we'll be engaging the unit in fifteen minutes. Chakotay, stay here for a moment. Everyone else, you're dismissed.”

When the others exited Kathryn turned to Chakotay. She gave him one of the smiles that had been so rare. “Well, old friend, we're off on another adventure.”

He nodded. “We're ready, Kathryn.”

“Well, as much as we can be, I suppose.” She stood up and looked out the port window. “I need to know something, Chakotay. And I'm sorry for doing this to you. But I really have to ask.” She turned and looked at him, “If something should happen to me, will you stick to the plan?”

There was silence and she waited patiently for his answer, knowing that she might possibly have hurt him terribly.

But when he did reply, he spoke evenly, and kindly. “Yes, Kathryn. I will.”

He stood up and they gripped each others arm. “That's good enough for me,” she said.

==^==

Captain Kathryn Janeway took her seat. She glanced at the beautiful shape of the new Phaser Rifle, which had been designed for her by Seven of Nine. It was secured to the chair in such a way that she could easily grab and pull. Then she glanced over at B'Elanna, whose Bat’leth was similarly positioned and ready. She glanced up at the Marines stationed grimly besides them. There was an Orion, the bald and bold Ensign Torl, who wore his marks upon his skull, and then there was the faithful Ensign Chase, who had joined House Presba at the last ceremony. His markings covered the side of his face, like Chakotay.

Another seat had been built for the First Officer. Chakotay sat on the upper deck and she looked back. He gave her a nod of readiness.

The Captain took a deep breath, turned her attention back around, and then said, “It's been an honor to serve with all of you. Commander Tuvok, power up the shields and cloak.”

“Shield and Cloak up, Captain.”

“Tom, are the navigation parameters set?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Take us to Warp Five.”

“Aye, Captain.” Tom's fingertips flew over the Navigational Control Panel.

The Captain turned to look back at the adapted science station. “Lieutenant Sayr, when you're ready.”

The Vulcan scientist nodded. “Aye, Captain.” Like Tom, his hands flew over the system's control panel.

Then the Universe twisted.

==^==

Voyager always knew where she was, she always knew when she was. But her sense of time left her. Her sense of place deserted her. At the same time she felt... connected with everything, everyone. It was all light where she existed.

Yet she knew the individuals. She knew her people. Her family. A part of her touched them, loved them. They responded, in wonder and awe.

And there was Singing Sparrow, whom she loved as her Prime loved each other.

Voyager reached out and, for the first time ever, touched her mate. The light grew impossibly brighter between them. She realized that there are some things too sublime to ever adequately describe. And she knew now why the adults in her family often shouted with joy.

==^==

The Universe buckled and shifted around them. They were jostled as if the inertial dampeners were unable to compensate. They watched the view screen, which had turned black, as of nothing were out there. Then the walls and the components of the ship seemed to turn invisible. They saw through them, seeing the outline where the solidity should be. But wonder of wonders, they also saw the light of stars.

Then the Universe twisted again and popped back into place.

Again the Prime of Presba screamed and toppled. But this time, when others rushed to their sides, they remained somewhat conscious, if blinded for a moment. It had been as if, in a world of darkness, a switch had been thrown and the light had been too bright. Also, this time they were a little more prepared for the shock.

==^==

Lwaxana and T'Pel were in central area of their combined suite. The soft sounds of a local composer was playing quietly in the background. T'Sai was compiling a report for T'Pel while Effany was helping Lwaxana with research on the Space Station and current Bajoran, Betazed and Trill politics. Miral was reading files and Gretchen was making lunch with the help of Nelav, who had taken up learning Gretchen's traditional methods.

They had come to a friendly harmony with one another. The women they'd won as prizes had already explained that they intended to stay with the House Presba no matter what. But the offer of freedom always remained.

One moment Lwaxana was harmonizing what she knew about Bajoran spiritual practices in her Universe with this one and the next, the Betazoid was looking up at the ceiling through tear filled eyes. She heard Miral giving directions and then she felt herself being propped back up, guided to a seat where T'Pel was also led. There she took one of her mate's hands and clasped it to her breast.

The tears wouldn't quite stop, even when she looked at the bright eyes of her T'Pel. But that was okay. It only hurt because something right had finally snapped back into place.

==^==

Chakotay began snapping orders immediately, refocusing the navigation and science team. “What's our Status, Kim?!”

The Operations Officer turned his attention back to his panel. “All systems operational. Shields and cloak holding. No other ships indicated. We're in clear space.”

“Location, Paris?”

The Navigator turned, examined his panel and then looked amazed. “We're in the Alpha Quadrant. Right on mark.”

“Slow us down to impulse. Locate the next planned location and let me know when you're ready.”

“Universal Location, Lieutenant Sayr?”

“We have successfully entered Universe Variant .0047, Commander Chakotay.”

Chakotay went to the Security Console and hesitated, then reached out and helped the Vulcan upright. “Tuvok, you tracking?”

“It will be a few moments commander. Perhaps you had better have someone take over my station.”

“Ensign Chase, over here please. Get me a status report. Tuvok's had the wind knocked out of him.”

Tuvok didn't bother to protest the inaccuracy. But allowed the Commander to help him stand. Chakotay queried, “Do I need to get you to Sick Bay?”

“It will be...” The Vulcan shuddered as if bits of him were still falling back into place. “... unnecessary.” He looked over at his mates, who were also in various stages of staggering back into place. They were looking back at him, tears streaming down their faces.

Kathryn Janeway found her voice as she wiped her face dry, “Report.”

Commander Chakotay let go of Tuvok, who now had a grip on one of the support rods and was successfully standing on his own, and gave her a quick summary of the status of the ship.

The Captain closed her eyes briefly. There was a part of her that was terrified. A part of her was singing with joy. And then there was the other part. They would stick with the plan. There were, after all, three reasons for them to be here.

Kathryn's expression changed to one Chakotay was becoming more familiar with. “Good. Thank you, Chakotay.” The command snap was back in her voice. “Mr. Paris, what is your status.”

“Heading found, Captain. Ready when you are.”

She looked at B'Elanna, “Are you ready?” B'Elanna's expression had also firmed. The Klingon nodded. The Captain made the command. “Mr. Paris. Engage.”

==^==

They didn't just immediately go into celebration. In fact, other than making sure that Lwaxana and T'Pel were comfortable, they decided – mutually – to go about as if things were still the same. Miral distracted Effany and T'Sai with other occupations for the moment, while her daughters gathered themselves together.

After all, the only thing they knew for sure was that T'Pel's and Lwaxana's mates were now in the same Universe. They could still be thirty years away.

But time didn't matter now. They had time.

And they had things they could do with that time.

==^==

It was a similar philosophy, with a different timescale, that motivated the crew of the Voyager. Oh, they were closer than was suspected and the mates could sense a general direction and a sense of closer than before. But Voyager and her crew had no idea exactly where their people were located. So, they decided to occupy their time usefully while they searched. Much like they did in the Delta Quadrant. Only with maybe a slightly more dangerous intent.

Astrometrics began an immediate pull on the available broadcast data streams. Any and all content that could be picked up were and then they were sorted into specific topical headings. One of those topics being Presba.

The Fighter Squadrons stood down and took a small break. Many of the Marines who had been selected for a certain task stayed on Voyager's Troopship. It would take too long to strip down out of the Mechanical units and then get back into them again. Those with more maneuverability did the footwork for them while they had the time. Otherwise things settled into an approximately normal pace for a ship that was racing to its next planetary system.

Seven of Nine was already in the family's quarters when Laren arrived to check on the children. Of course, the youngsters were fine, but fingers and toes needed to be counted by mothers sometimes. And, in the case of tiny toes, kissed and then tickled. The buxom blonde gave Laren a gorgeous smile when she saw her mate, the kind that had been much missed.

And she received a rare smile in return.

==^==

About three hours later, they entered the system at full stealth, using the Darkling technology to block all energy signatures from being detected. This allowed them to do some reconnaissance, although they did have solid plans already in place. But as the rule went, all plans had to be adjusted during the play.

There were surprisingly few visually indicated Orion Syndicate ships in the system space. But it made sense, since it was, after all, supposed to be a hideout. Most of the ships they had would be cloaked or safely docked. Voyager and her crew began looking for cloaking signatures, the hideout, any information broadcasts. They picked up some very interesting signals.

First there were several cloaked ships in the area and there appeared to be three different types of signatures. Astrometrics, with the help of the Inter-universal science team, began figuring out which was what. Second, the hideout was exactly where they expected it to be and was just chock full of live beings doing bad things. They could tell this, because they were picking up several observational broadcasts. It was almost as if someone had been monitoring them.

Knowing that the Orion Syndicate was being monitored didn't put a crimp in the plan at all. In fact, it was a bonus for what they intended to do.

The ante upped, when it was discovered that one of the cloaked signatures was that of a small Klingon Bird of Prey.


	17. Chapter 17

The bridge of the IKS Tabor was quiet except for a few mutters. He hated this part of scouting. Right now he was under strict orders not to touch anything in the system until they had back up. So they were waiting and had been waiting quite awhile while the powers that be got their heads out of their... Captain Al'xandr was checking off something on his assistant's tablet when there was a broadcast that burst out on all channels.

The video filled the screen. A young, auburn haired Human woman stood, wearing a black uniform with some sort of sigil on her chest. Besides her, sitting and looking dangerous in a similar uniform, was a Klingon woman, also youthful, but frighteningly familiar. Most Klingons in the military service knew that face, or one that resembled it. This woman looked like General Torres' younger sister. And there was a Bat’leth struck into the floor of the ship besides her. It suddenly felt very familiar to anyone who had watched certain trials. And these days, who hadn't seen General Torres' mother?

The human woman spoke, “I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the House Presba,” she began.

Al'xandr felt the hair on his neck begin to stand.

The woman on the screen continued. “I am speaking to you from the Starship Voyager of the House Presba. This broadcast is to all those of the Orion Syndicate who are located within this system. We know where you are. We know who you are. We know what you have done. We will find you if you leave. Because you have aligned yourselves with our enemies and kidnapped members of the House Presba, I have been authorized to seek, find and destroy the Orion Syndicate by my Epatai and by the Admiral over my fleet. This is your opportunity to surrender. You will suffer the consequences if you do not surrender immediately. Give up now and things will go much easier for you. Or don't and pay the price. You have five minutes to confirm.”

“Find that ship,” snapped out the Captain of the Tabor. “Keep that broadcast line open. I want video. I want it now.”

They got an image of a whole lot of empty space.

Surprisingly there was an answering hail. “Surrender or die Human scum. You can't bluff us. We'll get a reward for capturing runaway slaves and you know what will happen then.” Then the Orion captain made several blunt suggestions about what would be done with the captured slaves.

“Now you have two minutes,” was the only reply and it was delivered in a voice so chill that, once again, Al'xandr felt the hair rise on his body.

He looked at his communications officer and snarled. “Have you got anything yet?”

“No, Captain.”

Captain Al'xandr hissed. He debated whether to open a hail, but also wanted to see what would happen next.

One and a half minutes ticked by slowly.

Then his operations officer said, “We've got movement!” A couple of the Orion ships that had been cloaked suddenly revealed themselves. There were also heat signatures erupting from the surface of the planet as ships that had been grounded powered up and started flying on up.

He couldn't believe what he saw next.

A dark shape formed against the background of space. Then light erupted from powerful cannons and torpedoes went sailing, expended like they were droplets of infinite water. Then ships of smaller sizes suddenly erupted from the dark shape, some of them silver and bright and some could hardly be seen. They zipped out and began picking off the smaller Orion ships that had been trying to make a break for it.

By then he was catching up to what his eyes were witnessing. Some of the larger Orion ships they'd been tracking were broken, no, sliced into pieces. And a slew of the ships that had been on the planet had been sent back into the infinite by those torpedoes. “Kahless, There's a transport ship dropping too! And firing as it goes! Who puts weapons on transport ships?,” someone had shouted out.

Some Smart Aleck responded, “Apparently House Presba does.”

There was another broadcast and the captain said, “Their answer is clear. People, it's time to clean out that rat's nest!”

The Klingons heard a shout roared out in reply and watched as the younger General Torres look-alike besides the captain stood up and easily retrieved her Bat’leth. Then she nodded to the Captain, who nodded back. Then she disappeared from the video in a sparkle of blue. The Captain turned and made a motion to an unseen being behind her. Then she sat down like a ruler of a kingdom. “Take them out,” she commanded.

Another person, a Human male was suddenly the center of attention. “This is Commander Chakotay of the House Presba. We ask those of you who are enslaved or not of the Orion Syndicate to get down on the ground and cover your heads. Do so now, so we will not take the lives of the innocent and we may preserve you. Our Truth Seekers, who are our eyes to preserve our Honor, will point you out to those who most need to be reminded who not to shoot. Again...” he began to repeat the message.

“Truth Seekers? They're taking Truth Seekers with them into battle?”

“Captain...”

“What?!”

“I think this is the back up.”

Al'xandr looked startled. Then he grinned and howled. “Karvis. You are right. Everyone to your stations! It's time to fight!”

==^==

The IKS Tabor broke out of cloak, firing with both pistols. Or rather, both phaser banks. “This is Captain Al'xandr of the House of Martok to the House Presba! Quapla! We join you in glorious battle!”

That was all the announcement that they made as they entered the ruckus in space. More Orion Syndicate ships broke cloak to begin firing and then it got really exciting, which was just how Klingons liked things.

Meanwhile the video streams from spy cams, satellites, or tapped from the house security cameras were telling their own story to any who might be watching. The IKS Tabor's computer, which had been keeping track of all of those things, continued to compile and to broadcast through it's secure communications stream.

==^==

The Zakeeri ships swarmed out of Voyager's Docking Bay, silver and black and hard to spot in the darkness of space. So they helped, by identifying themselves and calling out the enemy ships with scorching mockery. “This is Sofuru of the Clan Sun Tiger, Commander of the Squadron. Come and catch us if you can, cowards.”

More Orion ships suddenly flashed into view. There was a gleeful shout from the Zakeeri ships and it was on!

Meanwhile, the Transport ship popped out into space, followed by the vessels the Klingons had adapted for their squadron. Klingon shouts of war joined the Zakeeri taunts and that's when the Orions knew something different was happening here.

As the Transport drew down on the planet, it was joined specifically by the Three Sisters, who had just a little more fire power in their arsenal, to make sure that nothing could stop it from landing. Of course, it was tried, because the Syndicate leaders knew that if the transport landed, the advantage of numbers would drop tremendously. They, of course, had no idea how long this little venture had been planned. They were so used to operating almost without resistance, that it took them a little bit to get their act together.

After all, who came after the Syndicate? They knew everyone. They ran everything.

But they'd never seen ships like these. Nor had they battled anything like what started popping out of the Transport once it hit a certain level of atmosphere.

Well, people had heard of Mechanical Units, but who used them? Of course, one had to take shields down before teleports could be used, but ... Holy Shit!

One after the other, at least half of Voyager's Mechanical Marines dropped and began flying and fighting on their way down. They didn't bother with any captures, just destroy. After all, any ship that fired, meant to kill. Where the Three Sisters could only fire at enemy ships, these Marines landed on the vessels. Then they punched through the walls, with a complicated mixture of phaser and absorption matrix, which was based on the technology of the Penetrator Shield. Then they would find the pilots and drag and fling them out.

No pilot meant no flying in many of the smaller ships. But just to be sure, they'd then shoot the control panel and hop out and away to find the next one on the way down. It was efficient and brutal.

The other half of the Mechanical unit waited in reserve, until the Transport finally opened up closer to the surface. Then they were on the ground and split up again. This time they split into battle forces and guard forces and Truth Seekers. The battle forces just immediately started into the stomp and burn while the guard forces surrounded the Truth Seekers, even though they were also in uniquely designed Mechanical Suits.

The Truth Seeker suits stood out, because they were all black, except for bright blue stripes that covered forearms, shoulders and helmets. The other units were designed with camouflage in mind. The Truth Seeker suits were designed to be seen. Which meant they were likely to be targeted. And thus the guard unit and the increased speed designed into both, since Truth Seekers were going to be needed everywhere at once.

The Voyagers had expected more resistance and had gone powering in with the belief that there would be heavy firefighting just getting to that point. But just because there wasn't as much resistance as they thought there would be, didn't mean they stopped and waited. Explosions began as immediately as they arrived and doors and pathways to buildings and the sub-terrainian hideout were opened up by terrifying brute force. Then they went looking for the shield generators that kept transporters from keying in on the site. Then things really began lighting up.

The return fire took a little bit to start happening and it was ferocious when it did get going, but by then the Voyagers were in. The Transport vessel let loose the rest of the troops, non-mecha, but armored in the some fundamental ways. Then it took off, heading back for Voyager. Its job was done for the moment.

==^==

The Truth Seekers began doing their job immediately, rushing into the building with the guards and literally seeking out the innocent. It was a bit of a challenging task that the Captain had given them, especially in the rush of sensations and mental shouts that poured over some of the more sensitive. But their purpose was specific and it made it doable: identify the innocent, identify those to be imprisoned, identify those who just needed to be put down (even if they survived the fire fight). Protect House Honor. Be Truth Seekers.

To help make it easier to identify the different categories, since the Truth Seekers could not possibly stay in one place during the battle, the suits had a special “weapons,” design. Vibrant colored paint shot. The target, if they were standing were pegged front and back, which often shocked them into falling on the ground. If they were already on the ground, they got hit on the back with the wide spreading pellets.

Of course, it terrified the target, because it wasn't a lightweight hit. But when they realized they were still alive and that the “blood,” was paint, they would calm down. Those in bright neon blue, had reason to calm down. Those in red or yellow, who were trying to pretend they were non-Syndicate, really probably should have panicked and run.

If the target was fighting back, they were fair game. And there was plenty of fight back to be had. Especially once the transporters began working and the rest of the fighters began joining the fray.

Before they knew creatures of known and foreign quantifications started streaming into the facilities. Orions saw what looked like mutant two headed multi-limbed Klingons and cat-creatures firing at them and fighting in some sort of intricate, lethal dance. By the time they realized it was actually two separate creatures, it was usually much too late to be able to do something about it. Ylfians assigned to truth seekers were usually grouped into threes and herded innocents into safer locations by the power of little-tiny-people-with-phasers overwhelm. They simply shot around the individuals until the soon to be ex-slaves were where they wanted them.

Zakeeri, who were only just so much taller than the Ylfians, got into the places the Klingons, Kazons and others could not. People who tried to get away via hidden corridors were sorrowfully surprised to find the path blocked by well trained Marine Zakeeri. Some gave up, but most did not.

The Orions acted as eyes and ears, as the Zakeeri shaman said. The pointed the troops wherever they needed to go. They were impressive warriors and interacted with ease with the other warriors of the ship. Of course, the Klingons and Kazon were having a ball. This was the kind of thing they dreamed of doing. So they went into it with hopes of honorable battle and received.

The Humans and the Bajorans and the other races also acquitted themselves well. They went in with purpose and determination. The Cartel in this system would not be returning to life when they were done.

The Syndicate was not prepared for people this fast or efficient. The Prime of House Presba weren't the only ones who had been transformed by the Maze of Mines. Nor had they faced people who had been seasoned in the Delta Quadrant or in battle with the Dominion or even battles from the centuries past. The Voyager troops had plenty of experience and used everything they knew and what was handy. Once the phaser ran out of juice, if they didn't pick up a rifle, they used a blade. Things got bloody when it got down to hand in hand.

No one held back. They all had a bone to pick with the Syndicate. Not one life on Voyager had been unaffected by these cretins in one Universe or the other. It was just the Pharaoh Cartel of the Syndicate's great misfortune that they had brought the House Presba into this Universe.

Captain Janeway and Tuvok stayed on the ship to coordinate things up there; not that Tuvok wouldn't have been just as efficient on the ground. But his keen eye was needed where it could do the most good. Especially with the increased power of Voyager at his well practiced hands. And the Captain simply needed to be with her ship.

Three of the women of House Presba fought tooth and claw on the ground and it was truly something to behold.

B'Elanna Torres strode into the battle with terrible majesty. Those who were unfortunate enough to encounter her would not remember wild howls and the way she looked at them as they fell to her phaser or blade. But those who watched the security footage would. She did not hold back the wrath that sent blood to the walls.

Nor did Ro Laren, whose methodology was cleaner, but just as deadly. She didn't need large blades to make her point. Multiple phasers and knives gave her some distance, but she was even better hand to hand. Her growls were just as frightening as her mates and made plenty turn away to run. Which was stupid of them, because that only made it easier for the Bajoran to slice their necks open.

And then there was the ever efficient Borg. No one in this Universe's Alpha or Beta had ever encountered (or remembered it anyway) any being like this and, if the family Presba were naturally fast and ferocious, Seven of Nine's impact was beyond anything that could have been anticipated. It was almost beautiful because she moved with such dangerous grace and speed. Those who stuck around to fight found that the bodies accumulated around her. Those that ran found they couldn't run fast enough or, horrors, encountered someone else of the family Presba who was just as determined to make sure they were never around to harm another person again.

Above ground the ships continued their fight, whittling down the Orion fleet to component parts and bodies. Quarter would have been given, but in this Universe, everyone was so used to the way things were, it never occurred to the Syndicate ships to surrender. So they went down hard.

As predicted by the rescued Orions, there weren't that many innocents, comparatively speaking. The majority of persons at this particular base were the hardened veterans. They did fight back right down to dagger and fist. The Voyager crew, especially the Prime of House Presba, the Zakeeri, the Klingons, the Ylfians, and certain Orions threw themselves into the battle with intent to win completely. Eventually they ran out of people to fight and a great portion of the hideout was now a smoking, utterly destroyed ruin.

==^==

There were locations in the hideout that were spared, places where the innocent had been gathered in significant numbers, where evidence was located or were simply the major offices of the Syndicate official.

Epatai Torres entered one of those offices, followed by her mates. They had been joined by Kathryn when the battle between ships had been resolved to her satisfaction.

There were three kneeling prisoners. There were two Orions, male and female and one Cardassian male. They had been dressed in expensive clothes, but those had been ruined by the bright yellow tags that was splattered all over their bodies.

The prisoners were guarded by six people, which might have seemed overkill. These prisoners, however, were very important. Guarding them was one Truth Seeker, two mech marines and three Klingon Marines, who pointed their weapons at the kneeling persons.

The Cardassian was saying, “You do not know with whom you are fucking. You'll be taken down. We've done it before and ...”

“Shut him up,” snapped out the Epatai.

One of the Klingons had started out to smash him across the mouth, but then his eyes widened as he realized the man was still talking, but now silent.

They both kind of realized that at the same moment.

Epatai Torres addressed the Truth Seeker. “Thank you. I would have had to kill him.” B'Elanna meant it. The rush of the bloodlust was flowing through her and hard to control. She turned to face the captives. “I am Epatai Torres of the House Presba. Members from Syndicate captured and kidnapped members of my family. We have the records proving it.” She growled.

“I want you to be very clear on this point. You syndicate people and your new leaders started it,” She focused specifically on the Cardassian. “Hello, Yun Capel,” she growled. She smiled coldly, “We will finish it.” B'Elanna turned to the Captain. “Captain?”

Cardassians were normally very pale people. Their skin is usually a kind of grey-white, with some differences based on gender and family origins. Their neck ridges, for those who knew, could also be a good indicator of stress. As well as the crest on their forehead. Yun Capel went very white.

Kathryn nodded, taking the point now that their Klingon credentials had been established in this Universe where it mattered so much. Now Kathryn addressed the prisoners. She stood before them and plunked her hands on her hips, like she needed something to do with them or she'd end up punching someone. Her expression was beyond grim. “I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the House Presba. The syndicate has stepped outside of its bounds, which is what brings me down upon your heads. I have been given certain authorities by admirals of the fleet to seek, find, capture and/or kill members of the syndicate due to their joining the Dominion, a galactic force in the Gamma quadrant, in a declaration of War against all beings in the Alpha and Beta quadrant.” She didn't get specific that her commands had come from the Starfleet in another Universe. Nor did she mention that, for her, the two priorities of family and her obligations as captain meshed seamlessly at the moment.

“Yun Capel and his family have led the Syndicate down a dangerous road. Now don't you worry, we'll find the other family members and those other cartels involved eventually, but you should be aware that they have exposed you to dangers that this empire is not ready for. That is why we are here. They planned on betraying,” she had been about to say more, but then remembered they had chosen the room for a reason. The security cameras were still running and the performance was a must if things were to go smoothly. So she stuck with the truth, but changed her wording. “... the empire to a merciless, dangerous enemy. More, due to their influence, there are parties from the Delta quadrant which are now interested. ” She gave them an accusing look. “And you, oh brave leaders of the Pharaoh Cartel of the Orion Syndicate, went blithely along for the cold, hard cash.” Her voice was so cold it burned. They quailed before her deadly gaze. “Let me give you a little information.

“Because of you, the Alpha and Beta quadrant will face the Borg. The Borg have the ability to travel using transwarp technology. They can also identify single odd signatures at vast distances. You see, they exist in the Delta Quadrant, where we've just come from, following your trail. We got here as fast as we could. Let us hope it was fast enough.”

Then another thought struck her and Kathryn apparently lost her cool.

“Oh, and... my goodness... I almost forgot the Hirogen. If the Borg don't get here first, the Hirogen might” She pulled a found blaster from her belt where she'd tucked it and fired a shot at their feet. The blast blackened the floor in front of the prisoners and a shimmer of heat could be seen rising. “I should just shoot you right now for that alone.”

The prisoners were suddenly wishing she was back to that formidable pose she'd assumed before. Especially when she was suddenly right there, pointing the blaster in their faces.

“Captain,” warned the Truth Seeker.

“Alright. Alright.” The captain pulled the blaster away from the male Orion's face. “But that's not all you have done. You also decided you had to go to the Gamma Quadrant. You had to align with the Dominion, which will bring on the Breen. You selfish jackasses. Because of you this empire will face the Dominion.” She turned to the Truth Seeker. “Please. Can't I just shoot them a little bit? Maybe in the head.”

“Captain.” The Truth Speaker said calmly, “You asked me specifically to help you uphold the House Honor and the Honor of the Fleet.”

The Captain growled ever so lightly and backed away and took some deep breaths. She shuddered against the sudden violence that blazed in her. But she craved it too. It felt... familiar. Comfortable even.

When she felt able, Kathryn turned a glittery smile at the Orions. “But then, I can take comfort in the fact that you've screwed your own too. Because of you, your slave trade is over. Oh, it won't be felt for awhile. Since I know many won't believe it. After all, how could anything be stronger than the Empire. Well, you'll learn. They'll learn. Hopefully you'll be off rotting where you can hear the statistics. They won't be pretty.

“You see, now they're coming, Borg and Dominion and who knows else. It will be all your fault. And the quadrants will need every one to be at the ready and free enough to want to fight.”

She looked on them with scorn. “Of course, right now, you don't care. You think I'm bluffing. Because you've never met the real bad guys. But we have.” She looked to Seven of Nine. “My mate, please tell these gentlemen what this Universe has to look forward to.”

And Seven of Nine did, in gory, terrifying detail. She provided a holographic slide show. Then she demonstrated with the PADD she used for the show. When she was done, the Orions were a pale, pale green. Almost biliously so.

So were a couple of the Klingons. They didn't know she could do that. She was their loving Seven, mother of five... Borg. They had a moment.

Then, sensibility returned. They looked at each other and decided that it was a good thing she was on their side. She was Prime of House Presba, after all. And gorgeous. If they had to go, there were worse ways.

Captain Janeway continued. “Now, the only thing that is keeping me from killing you, is that I promised my Epatai that I would bring Honor to the House. Oh, and I made a few other promises that allowed me to be captain of my ship. To act in a manner befitting an officer, do justice, do right. That kind of thing. But those don't feel very important to me at the moment.” She got right in their faces. “I am begging you to do something stupid right now. Please, please, be stupid.”

The Truth Seeker stood in front of the Prisoners and folded her arms. “You can not taunt the Prisoners into action. They must be preserved. Honor, remember? Captain, I know you burn, but you must control it until this is done.”

“Damn it.” Kathryn growled and backed off.

And this time the growl was definitely recognizable to the prisoners. There was watery sound, a dribble of noise that tinkled on the ground. The captain growled again. “Fine. Thank you, Truth Seeker.” The Truth seeker moved out of her way.

“My mother-in-law,” and now the captain pointed casually at B'Elanna with the blaster, “The Epatai's Mother, happens to be a Judge. Two of my mates, happen to be with my mother-in-law. One is a Truth Seeker. Actually, I suppose both of them are, if you really think about it. You may know them.” If the prisoners could have made a sound at the moment, it would have been a groan of despair. But their vocalizations were still in the control of the Truth Seeker. “Now, we're not quite sure where they are at the moment. We've been away for awhile. But I promised my Epatai that we would find our family again. You get to go along for the ride and you'll be delivered to the authorities to be dealt with as they see fit.” She smiled unpleasantly. “We have a bunch of you lot to deliver. We caught your ship, the one in the Delta Quadrant. You recall the Lucky Dragon, don't you?”

The look on their faces was priceless.

Now she waved the blaster at the guards. “Get these ... creatures... on ice. I don't want to see them any more.” Then the captain turned to the Betazoid in the Black and Blue Mechanical Unit. “Thank you, Truth Seeker, for helping me to uphold the Honor of the House and Fleet. You better come along with me now.” The Captain looked at her mates and then smiled grimly, “We're looking a bit rough here and we've a few more people to visit and they may need your kinder presence.”

The mech-unit's head bowed. “You're welcome Captain. It is an Honor to serve the House and Fleet.”

==^==

The Prisoners in the lab huddled together, unshackled. There were Marine guards in very tall mechanized suits and there were the tiny multi-limbed people who wandered in with more people that they found. Those who were waiting realized there was a pattern to the selection. They all had blue paint on them. They had all been victims of the Orion Syndicate.

However, they didn't quite know who these people were. They didn't recognize the uniforms and they certainly didn't know the species. Were they being rescued or cornered for something much worse?

As more were delivered into the room, however, it sounded like worse things were going on outside and that they were safer in this room with the intimidating guards. They had been allowed to stand or sit and given things to eat and drink, by compassionate, if diverse warriors. They had not been otherwise bothered or threatened, which was even odder.

Dr. Leah Brahms was of average height and build, but completely beyond average in intelligence. She was a beautiful woman, brunette and pale of skin. She was one of the most brilliant scientists... in the Universe that she'd been stolen from. She had no idea if a version of herself existed in this Universe or not. She suspected not, given that they had to go to her Universe to find her. She still had not cooperated as the Orions hoped. She'd literally been rescued from the beginnings of torture by one of those mech units – the one colored with blue.

She suspected that there was a story behind that color choice. Certainly she had come to associate the color with the science and medical units of Starfleet. More she thought she recognized certain design choices. There was a certain familiarity to them. But there was nothing specific that she could place.

Leah had too much on her mind to linger on the puzzle for long.

At the moment, she did her best to watch over the bright individuals she'd come to think of as her people. Among them was the brilliant creator of the Trans Universal Engine, whom she had come to admire. Annika Hansen might not have the degrees, but she was a superb, beautiful woman of extraordinary ability. On the one hand it was a shame that she had fallen into the Orion's hands. On the other... it had probably saved her from a completely different and much shorter life.

She and her people waited to see who their new masters were and Leah pondered yet another way to escape.

==^==

The Captain strode into another one of the rooms, with her mates in tow, and this time with the Truth Seeker. The room appeared to be a lab of sorts. There were all types of strange mechanical units in various states of repair. She turned to the guard who had been standing there, watching the room and the people huddled in the corner of the room. “I want everything confiscated and this room destroyed.

“Aye, Captain,” the Marine responded. “The prisoners are over there.”

“Thank you ensign. Carry on.”

Then she made her way to stand in front of the blue painted group. “I am Captain...”

“Captain Janeway?!” A brunette exclaimed. “Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Voyager? Aren't you supposed to be in the Delta Quadrant?”

This time it was Kathryn's turn to go wide-eyed. “Dr. Brahms?!” She gasped in surprise. “We just got here. What the hell are you ...”

“Kidnapped.” And Dr. Brahms waved at the people behind her. “All of us. Including...” she thought fast, since her gaze had also taken in the younger looking blond. She pointed at Seven of Nine, “her cousin. Annika.” Dr. Brahms then pulled a tall, but trying to instantly shrink woman, forward. “The Orion Syndicate...”

“... are done in this system,” exclaimed Seven of Nine grimly. She nodded serenely to the shivering woman who looked like an older version of herself. “Hello cousin. It is good to see you well. It is unfortunate that we meet under these circumstances.”

“I...” She looked at Leah, who gave her an elbowed hint. “Hi, uh.. cousin. I am glad to see you too. Surprised. But glad.”

Seven of Nine looked solemnly at her 'cousin,' “We have much to discuss. First you should know that...” Seven indicated her mates, “...we are the House Presba. This is Epatai Torres,” the cybernetically enhanced blonde turned to indicate B'Elanna.

“One of your mates? You are part of a Klingon House?!” started Annika in shock.

Seven of Nine gave the other woman a cautionary glare and continued as if she had not been interrupted. “The Epatai is the head of our Household.” Then with a bit of a sniff, she lifted her head and the movement reminded Annika that 'dark something' was not this other woman's natural hair color, “My family is Prime of the House Presba.”

Annika blinked and then caught hold of herself. She understood rank. It was just taking her a moment to process. “Oh. Of course. I apologize. Epatai Torres,” the other blonde said with a more than passable bow, “it is... good to meet you.”

The Klingon nodded. “My pleasure.” B'Elanna said gruffly. And she wound her arm around Seven of Nine's waist and drew her in for a long, meaningful kiss. It was perhaps, not her wisest idea, she thought when she felt the fire spark instantly. She should have realized that would happen. The kiss deepened.

It took everything she had not to just clear off one of those lab tables and take Seven right there. Not that her Borg or other mates would have been opposed right then.

She forced herself back, gasping. She didn't dare look at the other women of the House at that moment. Or it would just start again. Then she promised Seven, “We will take this up again later.” There was a purr in voice that sent shivers along listener's backs.

Seven looked as cool as ever. “Of course, my mate.”

Captain Janeway expression changed to a very sexual amusement. Then she too pulled herself together. “If you'll pay attention to me for a moment,” she drew the gaze of the captured scientists back to her. The captain then indicated the Black and Blue mechanical unit.

There was a popping noise and then the unit lifted the helmet off, to reveal a beautiful red-headed Betazoid. She nodded to her captain and then to this small, important group.

“This is one of Voyager's Truth Seekers, Counselor Priam Nael of the House Presba. She will assist you from here. You may trust her to, at this time, look after your best interests. We invite you to join us on our ship, but you will be free to stay here if you insist upon it.”

“Oh no. You aren't leaving me in this pit Captain Janeway,” Dr. Brahms spat. “I've been here long enough.”

“I should warn you, ours is a working ship. If you join us, you'll be given a few days recovery time, but then we'll sort you into departments or training. It's not a free ride that we are offering.”

“Will I be free to choose whether I work in Maintenance, Engineering, or the Science Department?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then beam me up. I'm ready to go now.”


	18. Chapter 18

After that, it was a matter of clean up, with the offer of working sanctuary or being left on the surface being made to all the newly liberated. The captain didn't know if the freed prisoners realized they were really being given the option, but she felt that she was obligated to give them the choice. They had so few to begin with.

She and her mates eventually left the surface, after making a few more stops and contact with the commanders of the fighting units in order to coordinate.

The sight they left behind them was impressive in a charred kind of way. The banners were out and the House and Fleet Colors were flying in the sunset. The hideout was scorched, burned, bloody, rubble. Voyager's crew and, a small group of very enthusiastic Klingons that had somehow joined them, were involved in what was essentially an explosive wrecking ball clean up.

“We were contacted by one Captain Al'xandr of the IKS Tabor. You may recall they joined us in battle upstairs, but got hit pretty hard. We've got an engineering team helping reconstruct their ship. Had to bring it on Voyager. It was that small, if you can believe. A scout-ship, I guess. Maybe thirty or so crewing it. Anyhow, We've got about fifteen of them in Sickbay. Doc Pulaski commandeered Holodeck three as a secondary Sickbay. She's got the whole med team working.

“Casualties that bad?”

“Comparatively few considering what we've accomplished here. But we were bound to lose some.” The captain's expression turned bleak. Commander Tucker cleared her throat, “I'll get you exact stats later, Captain, if that's all right.”

Janeway nodded, knowing that she would pay the price for the loss later. Then she asked, “Where is Captain Al'xandr at the moment?”

“He's one of the ones in Sickbay, Captain. But,” the commander grinned, “I think he'll live. He noticed that Dr. Zimmerman was using a dermal regenerator and demanded that he leave the scars of this 'Great' Battle, before he went under.”

“Thank you, Commander Tucker. I'll look in on him then.” Janeway looked at her mates then tapped her comm badge. “Voyager, this is Captain Janeway. Four to beam up.”

==^==

Voyager beamed them directly to their quarters and into their individual rooms. Kathryn Janeway didn't need more of a hint. She immediately went into to the refresher and started the shower. She started with the Sonic shower, letting it pulse the grit and other effluvia away. Then, she ran the water, reveling in the heat and comfort of it. She felt clean, but still primed when she stepped out. “Voyager, what is the status in Sickbay?”

“Dr. Zimmerman is in Sickbay 2, the Holodeck, operating on Ensign Kutowski. Dr. Dezhe is in Sickbay 1, operating on Kung of the IKS Tabor. Dr. Pulaski is currently operating on Ensign Borath, one of our Klingon Marines in Sickbay 1. Icheb is acting as nurse to Dr. Dezhe. Ensign Hughes is assisting Dr. Pulaski. Crewman Bev is assisting Dr. Zimmerman.”

“Fine. What's the status of the... Hmm... Captain Al'xandr.”

“He is asleep. Current status, not to be moved or awakened for eight hours.”

“Ah. Good. Fine, then let Kate know we're alive....”

“I already took the liberty.”

Kathryn nodded. “Thank you. Tell her I'll be by to speak with Captain Al'xandr in ten hours then.”

“And Dr. Pulaski?”

“She'll have been working through several surgeries. Tell her I'll see her after she's had some quality rest. I can't afford to see her in this mood. If she snapped at me wrong ...” She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I need to get to the Nest. Please tell Kate that I wish I could see her sooner, but it is best if I don't. I doubt she'll understand, but it will have to do.”

“I... understand, Kathryn.”

“Be discreet, Voyager.”

“I will. You may trust me.”

“I trust you absolutely. Love you, my ship.”

“Love you, my Kathryn.”

==^==

B'Elanna raced through her shower. She very nearly didn't take it. But she triple-powered it, with a sonic, then a wet and then another sonic shower. By the time she was done she felt fresh and ... ready; and still so very wanton.

She practically flew into the Nest. Only to find it empty.

She let out a howl of frustration, which helped. After a few more breaths she had herself somewhat together. Then as she glanced around, a spark of whimsy jumped in her.

She paced towards the toy chest. There she began the process of looking them over, pondering which one she would...

“That one.” A finger not her own pointed towards a phallic unit.

B'Elanna actually jumped and turned, “Gah!”

Seven's lips twitched into one of the fullest smiles that had been seen since the disappearance of their mates. “You do intend to use one of these on me, do you not? That is the one I want.”

“And what about me?” B'Elanna arched her brow.

Seven picked up the phallus and said, with a purr, “Let me show you.” Then she knelt down and, with startling efficiency, placed it spot on where it belonged.

B'Elanna gasped as the unit began making its connections to certain points of her body. It actually managed to cover both of her clitorai. Seven teasingly strummed the underside of the phallus with her fingernails. The pleasure went right through B'Elanna and the phallus seemed to lift and swell. She looked down in awe. “Where did you find this.”

“Ancient Borg secret.”

“You made it.” B'Elanna's felt warmth in her hearts. “For me.”

Seven's predatory smile moved into erotic affection. “Yes, beloved. I did. I have made several toys specific to each of my mates. This is one of the one's specifically for you. If you look on the bottom it even has your name on it. But... Observe.” Seven's hands roamed up B'Elanna's hips and behind, until her fingertips were pressing against those ridges B'Elanna had come to appreciate more and more. The Klingon felt a pulse of pleasure strike through her, sparking from nipples to the extreme new point.

“Oh sweet Kahless.” When she could speak again, “You know, you'd make a fortune if... Oh... my....”

Seven of Nine drew her tongue along the phallus and B'Elanna felt herself grow even more wet and needful. She felt her mate's hands move, then pull against the mock-skin of the phallus in long wonderful strokes.

The Klingon had to grip the side of the chest for balance, because her knees gave out. “We need... I need... support.”

“Yes, BangwI.” Seven of Nine shifted position and picked up her mate. Then, steady as a rock she carried them both to the softer part of the nest and laid her Klingon down. She then laid besides B'Elanna, capturing her Klingon's faux-cock in one hand and holding her close for long deep kisses with the other.

B'Elanna was making noises she didn't know she had in her and lifting her hips to match Seven's strokes. Seven whispered, “I want you inside me, my mate. Do you wish to feel what it is like?”

“Oh Kahless, yes.”

Once again Seven moved, until this time she was straddling her mate. Then, positioning herself carefully, she drew her Klingon in.

B'Elanna's eyes slitted with desire and she growled in pleasure. Seven felt so good around her. So... right. She pressed up and then up again, and she knew that Seven was teasing her into the rhythm that she wanted. B'Elanna didn't mind.

Seven leaned in and whispered desire into B'Elanna's ear. That did it. In a flash Seven of Nine was now on her back with B'Elanna grinding hungrily into her.

Seven lifted to meet her, called her to their joy. B'Elanna arched into the pleasure of it. She kissed her mate roughly, needfully. “Mine,” she growled.

Then Laren joined them. She pulled B'Elanna's attention long enough for a long sweet kiss, then she bowed to kiss Seven of Nine. “As you were,” she teased, then lay on her side. Her hand roamed B'Elanna's back, Seven's front. Her mouth found wonderful places to be too.

B'Elanna realized she was even more turned on than she'd been at the start. “Kahless, but I love you my mates.”

==^==

Kathryn didn't bother with robes this time, but strode into the Nest like she owned it. Then she stopped and had to catch up with what she was seeing. She felt a wave pulse of desire run from her belly to all the hairs on her body. She hadn't thought she could be more turned on.

B'Elanna was thrusting into Seven of Nine, not with her hands, but her hips. Apparently they'd accessorized their desire with one of the phalli. These days a “strap on,” did not require any straps. It was ... plug and play, which was a wonderful addition to the natural tools they had at hand. Especially since the artificial tools tended to work with the available nerves to provide all sorts of incredible sensations. Seven of Nine was thrusting back, actively rolling into her beloved Klingon with abandon. Laren was absorbed with suckling and playing with Seven of Nine's breasts and sensitive implants. Seven's head was thrown back against a pillow and there were quiveringly wonderful noises exuding from her. She was also in the first stages of lighting up.

Kathryn loved that part.

The red-head really wanted to join them and really wanted to just watch them, it was so gorgeous. But need claimed her.

When Kathryn joined them, the Bajoran had turned enough to open herself and had gasped as Kathryn began immediately to taste and lavishly caress the points of pleasure with her tongue. Laren rocked against Kathryn's intense ministrations, even as she attempted to continue to taste and caress Seven . Kathryn's hands roamed over sensitive ridges, as her tongue plunged urgently into her Bajoran. This time it was Laren who tipped over the edge first, spiraling all of them out into delight's domain because of their link. It was deeply, amazingly good.

They were catching their breaths when Tuvok joined them at last. They welcomed him with open arms, guided him where they needed him and where he needed them. Warm hands and tongues slid over him, making him cry out. B'Elanna freed herself from the toy and whimsically handed the toy to Seven, who took it with a smile. Then she rolled him over. She straddled him, planted herself on him, drew the fire down and through him. He rose to the occasion and they moved together, touching and being touched.

This time when the song of their touch thrilled through their connection, their mates were there. It caused them all to cry out in joy. This time there was embracing, filling, delighting. It was so strong there were words. Small ones, fundamental ones. Words like “here,” or “need” or “love” or “beloved.”

The loving intensified, deepened sweetly like purring kisses.

==^==

There was a chime at the door and a sleepy Miral grabbed her robe and answered the door. She blinked against the light. “General Martok. What...time is it?”

“Very early morning. You must see this.”

He looked like he was going to enter, so she let him and followed him to a console. The big screen lit up.

“Welcome back to the broadcast. We return you to Sela with a repeat presentation of the “Battle between House Presba and the Pharaoh Cartel.”

“What?!”

“It gets better.”

“This is Sela of the Romulan Empire reporting from Pharaoh System.” The blonde Romulan nodded to her companion briefly, who'd paused to drop a question in her ear. “As you recall from our last broadcast we followed an Orion Syndicate Freighter to this system by stealth. Well, little did we know that we'd arrived just in time for what may be the biggest scoop ever. Listen to the broadcast we've just caught. Now, in case you need to know, we're editing on the fly. Everything you see here will be live. I repeat, live. Just a few minutes after the actual event.” She turned now to her companion, a dark haired male Romulan. “Okay Tak. Run it!”

Suddenly on the screen there was a young auburn-haired woman standing and speaking and besides her, sitting, was B'Elanna Torres, with a Bat’leth plunged into the deck. “I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the House Presba. I am speaking to you from the Starship Voyager of the House Presba. This broadcast is to all those of the Orion Syndicate who are located within this system. We know where you are. We know who you are. We know what you have done. We will find you if you leave. Because you have aligned yourselves with our enemies and kidnapped members of the House Presba, I have been authorized to seek, find and destroy the Orion Syndicate by my Epatai and by the Admiral over my fleet. This is your opportunity to surrender. You will suffer the consequences if you do not surrender immediately. Give up now and things will go much easier for you. Or don't and pay the price. You have five minutes to confirm...”

Miral grabbed General Martok's arm. “I've... I've got to get Gretchen. I need to wake ... Oh Kahless. Oh... Kahless.” She did the Klingon thing, wrapped him in a tight hug, then released him abruptly and ran into her room. “Wake up my mate! Wake up.”

Gretchen, much less dressed than Miral, staggered out. Then she gasped and tried to cover what Martok had already seen. The General grinned and turned to look at the screen. He said, “You're about to miss the good part.”

Miral made her way to her daughters' rooms, and used her command code, then barged in. Then she barged right out. Her eyes were wide. A sound of pure eroticism followed her out. “They won't be joining us,” she said. “They... really can't.”

General Martok laughed outright as he caught on. 'No. Of course they can't. They probably knew before we did. Kahless. They really are blood bonded.” He grinned and moved seats. “Come, watch. You'll see why. It's not as long as the feed we got at the same time from the Tabor. It's edited and has commercial breaks, you know. But it'll still be several hours before its done. They may actually make it out of the room...” Then he thought about it. “No. They won't. Get out the bloodwine and some food. You're going to want to make toasts. Your House has done you proud.”

==^==

It took everything she had to leave, but she had said ten hours. She just hadn't realized how ... affected she and her mates would be. She did not, however, have to go alone. B'Elanna joined her. It was just as challenging for her.

Kathryn leaned in for a warm kiss, “Thank you, Epatai.”

“Mmm. Keep that up and we won't be leaving. Best do this while we may.”

“Right.”

Sickbay was quiet, the lights were down. Dr. Zimmerman greeted them. “We've got most of the patients sedated, and we'll have to put him back under after your visit, but he's conscious.”

The Klingon recognized them as soon as he saw them. “Epatai! Captain! It was a glorious battle.” That right there made B'Elanna's decision the right one.

Captain Janeway couldn't help but grin back. “That it was, Captain Al'xandr. We were glad you were able to join us. I must tell you that it will probably be a few days before your ship is completely repaired. But then,” she patted the biobed, “It will be a few days before you're completely repaired too.”

This caused the Klingon to laugh and then to cough. But he was still smiling at the end. “It is good. My men?”

“You lost two, and they were howled for. The rest are either healing or helping. You have a very... enthusiastic crew.”

He grimaced. “Thank you, Captain.” He stroked the new scar on his face. Then he smiled widely. “A Great Battle.”

Dr. Zimmerman began to fuss. “I think that's enough for now captain. And you two should go back home anyway.” He ran a tricorder over them. “What are you doing out of the Nest in this state? You're barely presentable.”

“We'll talk more later,” Janeway said to the young captain.

“I look forward to it.” he said sleepily. “General Torres will be very happy.”

They hastened back, once obligations were met. They were stripped down quickly by their mates, and welcomed with open arms.

==^==

“Ahem.” Voyager's call was set very low. “I'm sorry to wake you Captain, but ...”

The captain roused from the soft, warm place where she had been sleeping and was instantly, well, not quite awake, but upright. “Red alert?!”

“No. No.” The jostled Laren was blinking her eyes. Then smiling hungrily and reaching for the Captain. Who was reaching automatically back. They started kissing.

“Captain,” Voyager said urgently.

“Mmmhmm.” The auburn haired woman said absently.

“There is a call.”

The captain pulled back reluctantly. “Where is Chakotay?”

“She won't talk to him.”

“She?”

“General Torres.”

The captain leaned over and whispered in B'Elanna's ear. This time it was B'Elanna who startled upright. “Warp Core?!”

“No, love, General Torres wants to talk. I doubt that it's really to me.”

The Epatai turned and looked at what the captain was doing to Laren. Kathryn's hands hadn't stopped moving. One of Laren's breasts was covered and the captain's fingertips were stroking in circular motions a great deal lower. Laren had leaned with her back against Kathryn and spread her legs.

B'Elanna growled hungrily.

“I knew this was a bad idea to interrupt you a second time. It was hard enough the first time. Captain, you really must focus.”

B'Elanna was leaning forward. She'd been swirling her tongue along the ridges at Laren's other breast, causing the woman to cry out. She stopped long enough to say, “Did you tell General Torres that we were occupied? And why?”

“I... well, yes. I did. I hope you don't mind.” There was a hesitation. “She said no one could be under bloodlust that long. You were just being indulgent.”

B'Elanna Torres growled. “Is she mated?”

“Uh... records do not indicate...”

“Then she fucking doesn't know.” B'Elanna felt an urgency glowing in her as Laren began to move against Kathryn's hand. “She's just trying to pressure us into talking with her at her convenience. Tell her that Epatai Torres says that the Prime of House Presba is currently unavailable and if she has a beef with it, she can take it up with Mom.”

“You.. uh... really want me to say that?”

By that time Seven of Nine was alert and moving towards where B'Elanna, Kathryn and Laren were. Tuvok was not yet stirring.

B'Elanna said, “I don't have what it takes to be polite at the moment. And I really don't care if she's Epatai in this Universe. On this ship, with this family and House, I am Epatai. If you can think of a better way to say things, then do.”

“Uh...Yes, Epatai. Thank you for your time.”

B'Elanna growled, looked one more time at what her mates were doing and immediately lost interest in the conversation. Her mouth needed to be where Kathryn's hand currently was.

==^==

“Voyager to IKS Tor’stag. Seeking Connection with General Torres on behalf of Epatai Torres.”

“IKS Tor’stag here. The General will not speak to anyone but...”

Suddenly there was a crackle, “I'm sorry, I missed that last part.” Then the sound leaped from the speaker system to General Torres' personal communication device. “This is Voyager of the House Presba to General Torres of the House Presba. You are of House Presba, correct?”

General B'Elanna Torres looked outraged, but her mind flashed back to a conversation with her Chancellor. “I am,” she snarled.

“Please find a secure location so that House Business may be discussed.”

“Who are you to ...”

“Please find a secure location so that House Business may be discussed.”

“Do you know who you are talking to?”

“Please find a secure location so that House Business may be discussed.”

The General looked at her staff. “What are you looking at. Get to work.” She pointed to a Klingon. “Kavorh. You have the Bridge.” Then the General stalked away, cussing all the way through the corridors until she was in her Quarters. “This is General Torres.”

“Please find a secure location so that House Business may be discussed.”

“This is a secure location.” The General snapped in frustration.

“Please hold.” There was a long pause. Then the voice continued. “I am sorry to report this General, but your quarters are not secure. Please hold.”

“What?!” Even as the General was protesting that her quarters were too secure, a blue light flashed around her.

She was finishing her sentence when she shimmered into view in the middle of the Prime Family Quarters. Mezoti and Naomi looked up from where they were playing.

The General spun around, her dark braid flying. She reached for her weapons without finding them. Then she turned back to face the children, two young girls, blonde and red-headed, who were observing her without fear. She glared out at them with her one eye and bared her teeth. One of the girls spoke, “Aunt B'Elanna. Do you need assistance?”

“Where am I?” The General ground out, even as she was crouching like something or someone was going to attack her. A part of her wanted to rush the children, but they were not armed nor threatening her. She held back the impulse.

Mezoti acted like it was the most normal thing in the world for an angry, scarred, veteran Klingon General to appear in their quarters. “You're in our home.”

The General blinked and tried to catch up. A part of her was noting scents, sights and sounds. A part of her was assessing that information and realizing that there were no threat markings. “I take it, this is a secure location.”

“Always. Does Voyager need to talk to you? Is that why you're here?”

“Voyager... Voyager's the ship...” The General spotted Bat’leths of various sizes on one of the walls. And what looked like children's paintings. Very advanced children's paintings. She noted that neither of the girls appeared threatened or worried.

“She's part of the Prime of House Presba. And she worries about too many people outside knowing about her. But if you're here, you're family. So, yes. She is the ship.” Mezoti stood up, walked over to the fearsome general and took her by the hand.

“Don't you have any sense of self preservation?” The General growled at her, even as she accepted the clasp. It would have been dishonorable to strike a child.

Mezoti spoke to Naomi in a quick spurt of Presba tongue, then replied to the General. “Of course, Aunt B'Elanna. But you needn't worry. I am proficient in several defensive arts. My SoS wouldn't have it otherwise.” She began leading the General to the guest quarters. “Do you need anything to drink or eat while you talk to Voyager?”

“Bloodwine. Lots of it.”

“Yes, Aunt B'Elanna.” The guest quarters were plush and warmly inviting. “You'll be safe here.”

“Me?! I was safe on my ship.”

“Yes, Aunt B'Elanna.”

“Go get my Bloodwine girl. Wait. What is your name?”

“I am Mezoti Hansen of the House Presba, Aunt B'Elanna.”

“Thank you for giving me one clear, understandable answer.”

“You're welcome, Aunt B'Elanna. I'll be back with your Bloodwine in a moment.”

The youngster exited the room with the same comfortable, confident stride that she'd entered it with. The General took a moment to look around her, noting the bed and the replicator. It was almost completely neutral, but at the same time flavored with the abode's sleek design. She wrestled with her emotional options before finally taking a seat by a table and making herself comfortable.

A few moments later Mezoti entered the room carrying a large pitcher and a tray with a mug and a plate of something. She set it on the table. “Icheb made the cookies today, so you picked a good day to visit. It's his turn to cook all day. If you're lucky, you'll get to stay for dinner. If not, he'll be making lunch. I'll bring something if you're still talking.”

“Mezoti, how does one start a conversation with ... Voyager.”

Mezoti shook her head at the adult and barely managed not to roll her eyes. “When you're in our home you just say her name. Voyager. Aunt B'Elanna wants to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Mezoti,” answered the ship.

“You're welcome, Voyager.”

Mezoti started back out. “Wait right there, Mezoti Hansen.” Voyager said sternly. “Enact Family hugging protocol.”

The child turned and gave her Aunt a sheepish look. “Oh. Sorry, Aunt B'Elanna.” Then the young girl walked forward and wrapped her arms around the General. She held on silently for several heartbeats and then let go.

“It is good to have you here, Aunt B'Elanna. We've been looking forward to meeting you.”

The stunned Klingon didn't really have a reply handy. Which was fine, since Mezoti exited with that same wonderful aplomb. It took a moment for General B'Elanna Torres, Victor of the Battle of Karnath, Destroyer of the Hive of Ruaxa, and owner of a slew of other titles and medals, to gather her wits. When she felt able, she poured herself a mug of the wine and then picked up the round object called a cookie. She eyed it with suspicion, but decided it was food and it would be rude not to taste it. She didn't regret her decision at all.

She chewed the scrumptious bit and then swallowed. “Voyager of the House Presba, I have questions.”

“General Torres of the House Presba, I have answers.”

==^==

A few hours later General Torres was being given the grand tour by Azan and Rebi. It was a disconcerting walk through the ship in that the young boy's couldn't seem to say a single sentence without completing it for each other, but somehow their “aunt,” got used to it. While they led her around she was greeted politely and with dignity by the denizens of the ship. At least the grown ups seemed to understand what a General's rank meant. She even encountered a couple of crew from the Tabor. They actually saluted and looked appropriately terrified. It was... refreshing.

She found the whole tour somewhat surreal and invigorating. She enjoyed seeing the busy departments. She liked the way the ship was laid out, though she might have made a few changes herself. There was a smooth classic line to the ship, yet there were also emblems of power on the walls. Most were holographic, she knew. Voyager had explained about the issues with keeping things from bouncing around the corridors during battle. But what impressed her was that there were so many depictions of the adventures that the Voyager crew had experienced. She'd made the boys stop and play a few of the holo-vids, just to get an idea of what this crew had faced.

When they did that, a crowd would gather around. Some would talk about the event as if it were yesterday, which provided illumination. She asked questions, received answers. The crew did not hold back on their answers, unless it was a security issue. They were proud of their exploits and of their ship.

She noted the diversity of the crew. They were nearly seamless in their workings. There was none of the usual signs of backbiting or trying to get an in with the General. That spoke of good morale and a good captain.

That variety of personnel was reflected in members of the House. And what a diverse house it was. Zakeeri, Orions, Bajorans, Ylfians, Klingons, Kazon, Humans...

Kahless... Humans...

That alone was a political nightmare.

Although, it would probably be mitigated with the success of the Battle of Pharaoh System. These were not your ordinary every day humans.

And, apparently, the captain was aware of that they needed to stand out some how. General Torres noted the markings. She noted the crest and the status icons and the pips and the patches. There were no slaves here. There were only people who worked for a the betterment of life on board.

Well, except for the recently liberated, who she noted, still bowed very low when she passed by.

She made no commentary. It was the Epatai's problem, not hers.

Eventually they arrived at Sickbay, where she was greeted by a caustic human who apparently was no respecter of persons. Doctor Pulaski pointed the General towards Captain Al'xandr with a command to keep it short and don't over-stress the young man. Then the human had absently ruffled the hair of Azan and Rebi before moving on.

Al'xandr was struggling to sit up when he spotted the General. He tried to salute. The General had stopped him, smiled down at him. He couldn't help the grinning back. “Did you see? We won.”

“I saw. It was glorious. Epics will be written. It's been on the intergalactic news non-stop.”

“Ah, the news. They're probably analyzing it to death.” He coughed and then groaned. “They had to re-grow a lung and a few other parts.” Then he touched his face, “But they let me keep the scar.” He grinned ferociously.

“It is worthy. I am glad to be able to tell your father you are alive.”

He grimaced. “The question is, is he proud?”

She gripped Al'xandr's shoulder. “He is beyond proud. You brought honor to his House.”

The young man's smile turned the strange mix of feral and serene that only a Klingon could accomplish. “Good.”

“Rest now. There will be time to talk of the Battle and give me your report later. I'm going to go look at your ship now. I hear it is in good hands.”

“With these people? It is in excellent hands.”


	19. Chapter 19

Of course, she knew they weren't showing her everything. General Torres realized she didn't actually want to see everything about the ship. She wanted there to be more to discover. She wanted to get to know these strange, impressive people better.

Of course, she knew who they were. Just as she knew where her... mother... had come from. But they were not like the what they knew of the Starfleet of the other Universe. Oh, they were, in the sense that they were from the other Universe. But there was a definite difference in their attitudes.

Of course, this was the first time that a whole ship full of these people had made the crossing. Perhaps those others had been aberrations?

No.

No, it was just these people had been so many traumas they'd become their own kind of Starfleet, a little wild, a lot dangerous. Not to be trifled with, as was her new House. Of course, the evidence had been there with her “mother.” Whatever it was that made Miral Torres different, also held true for these people.

The boys led her to some of their favorite places after taking her to Sickbay. They visited the Docking Bay, where she met some of the small living ships and she also got a chance to see the Voyager crew working efficiently on repairing the Klingon vessel that had come into their hands.

Given the technology on board Voyager, she did not fear at all that these people were somehow discovering something new aboard Captain Al'xandr's small vessel. She did have some amazement about who was working on the vessel. She spotted the now famous Dr. Brahms and Annika Hansen.

They stopped to watch them work. The General found herself having to pull in her thoughts about the shapeliness of the blonde. She reminded herself that this Annika would be different. But there was something...

General Torres had heard that the two brilliant women had been a bane to the Orion Syndicate masters, which indicated bravery. The Klingon found herself wondering what kind of relationship had formed between the sleek blonde and the brunette.

She decided to test it out. When it seemed like they were at a point where it was safe to interrupt, she gained their attention. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Dr. Brahms and Annika looked at each other, then at the Klingon woman. “We are resting. You're from this Universe,” Dr. Brahms stated.

Well, apparently they weren't much for prevarication. “I am. And I do believe you spoiled their plot.”

Dr. Brahms waved her hand, “Piffle. You knew it already. What is your take on things. You going to try and shut them down? Get rid of us before we do some irreparable damage or what?”

General Torres grinned toothily. She was already liking the spicy Doctor. “I haven't formulated an opinion yet.”

“Bull. But that's okay. Annika hon, what do you think of this Klingon.”

Annika gave General Torres a long, thoughtful looking over. B'Elanna nearly cheered when she saw the conscious opt for bravery. “I think she's dangerous and beautiful. But then, so i ... her sister.”

“Yes, but her sister is married. Are you married, General Torres?”

“Uh...”

“I'll take that as a, 'No.' If you were married, you would hurry to answer. So... you've seen the Amazon, you wonder if the Amazon's cousin is similarly natured.”

General Torres was slightly flustered, but she could hold her own against the Hive. Certainly she could handle two women. “It is something I have a vested interest in.”

“Alright. I'll give you that one. If you're wondering how deep our love goes, it doesn't. We're just friends. She's a good buddy, but nothing more. She's also brilliant, strong, and wonderful. She's coming out of slavery. But she'd be a worthy Klingon mate, if it came to it. On the other hand, if you make her miserable, I will personally find a way to do you in, no matter what Universe I might be in at the time.”

“I am here you know.” Annika said.

“I know. But I'm just trying to move this along, so you two don't waste time. And it's better to do this while you're both on neutral ground. One thing I've come to appreciate these past few days is that life can be short and if Annika is going to be staying in this Universe, I'd like to see her happy.”

That actually caused the General to chuckle. “And what of you?”

“Sorry, I have a vested interest in staying on this vessel for the time being.”

“Ah. I understand.” The General decided to address Annika. “I am interested. But I am of this time and place and you know what that means. On the other hand, there would be status for you. Consider before making your choice. I will stop by another day.”

“Thank you for... giving me the choice, General.” Annika started to bow, but was held up by Dr. Brahms.

That gave the General another chuckle. She said, “Thank you for your time.”

Then she directed the boys to continue the tour. They happily obliged.

==^==

Voyager offered to disable the spy sensors in her quarters before she returned, but the General said to leave them. “They'll know I know. It'll keep them on their toes. And if someone on the ship mentions my leaving and return, I'll know who they are won't I?”

“Aye, General.”

“Tell my... sister... when she and her family find themselves coming up for air with the rest of us, to contact me. I want to meet her face to face. And I want to meet the other parents of my nieces and nephews. Oh, and I want a plate of whatever Icheb serves tonight, double servings. Including the dessert.”

“Yes, General Torres.”

“Good. Send me back to my ship, Voyager of the House Presba.”

“Yes, General Torres of the House Presba.”

==^==

The Romulan ship finally revealed itself at the demand of General Torres. “Commander Sela, what have I told you about chasing the wrong kind of ship?”

“Well, it got us the scoop, didn't it. And I'm not a commander any more. I'm a reporter.”

“You'll always be Imperial Marine, even if you are...,” the Klingon grimaced in disgust at the word, “... retired.”

Sela raised her hands in mock supplication. “Please, let's not go over this again. That last battle was just too much for me.” Sela remembered vividly the holes that had literally been carved into her body by the Hive. It had taken months to recover, even with surgery and organs re-grown.

“So now you report on them instead. You could have joined in the fight.”

“Ah, but we did. We just didn't leap out of hiding to do it. It's called stealth for a reason.”

“Romulans.”

“Klingons.”

The General growled a bit at her old First, then shook her head. “When you want a real job, come talk to me.”

“I'm happy with what I'm doing now.” Then she smiled at her friend. “But I'll keep it in mind.”

“Right.” The General scratched her chin then said, “I can probably talk ... to someone on Voyager and get you in for some interviews. You will like what you see, but be discreet. They're of my House. My sister and her family are still recuperating, but there are others who will be available to talk. I'll see what I can do for you.”

“Thank you. It's been impossible to break their security and we've tried every trick. Very unusual ship that Voyager.”

“You have no idea.”

==^==

It was with some amusement that Miral reminded herself that it would be pointless to try and contact Voyager right at that moment. For one thing, she knew that the people they wanted to talk to were ... occupied. For the other... well, she wasn't sure why she held back.

Anticipation, perhaps. General Martok had confirmed that General Torres had been given orders to bring Voyager to the same space station they would be visiting. It just seemed okay to wait now. If she was going to see her children, she wanted to see them in the flesh, not across a screen. The screen just made them seem too far away now.

So.

They would wait. Unless Voyager contacted them first.

But, she suspected that they might feel the same way. It had to do with tangibility, with physical presence. With...nearness. Things that all of them had missed for years. What was a few more days or weeks?

==^==

Although they did not know when Voyager left, the ties between the Klingon Empire and the Federation were officially severed the day after. And it was not the Klingons who caused the rift.

Section 31 had, as usual, been doing what they thought of as their job.

Their intent was to cut loose a sinking ship. Little did they realize the sinking ship was theirs.

Section 31 used several means, not the least was the sabotage of a whole ship yard. There they had left all sorts of incriminating evidence, thinking to force this issue. They were successful. Though not in as explosive a way as they might have been aiming.

Two relatively young men set sail from Vulcan immediately, since the borders were not yet closed entirely. Bajor protested and affirmed not only their neutrality and independence, but also their welcome of Klingons into their space. Ambassador Worf tried to save what he could of the relationships, since he knew there were honorable members of Starfleet. But the damage was done.

As Chancellor Martok pointed out, sometimes one had to protect one's own Empire. He was not unsympathetic to the plight of the Federation, but their internal politics were at a dangerous place. The Federation was going to have to clean its house if it wanted to deal in a non-Hostile way with the Klingons.

“One must deal honestly with one's allies or suffer the consequences of the deeds of distrust,” he'd told the president. “Even during the worst times, you always knew where you stood with the Empire. We are grateful for your past assistance, but it can not hold us to you like beaten dogs. Once was forgivable. Gowran was a fool and the Dominion had us in its grasp. But this is twice and you have no such excuse. You have a poison in your midst. I suggest you purge it.” He made a chopping motion. “We are done.”

==^==

The Estate of House Presba was filled with activity as the old colony houses were refurbished and new colony buildings – often from boxed sets – were created as quickly as possible. Supplies were ordered, while the trade lines were still operational, but Asil had seen the shift in the wind and had the Colony pointed in the direction of self-sufficiency. They renamed the planet Presba and the moon Matleh. The town they named Stoneridge, given it's location. It was going to be an eclectic little province in the Klingon Empire, but the Chancellor apparently didn't mind. He sent another ship to guard it.

Which also said a bit about the tensions in the quadrants at the moment.

The women of House Presba, however, made a choice to focus on doing what they could to get things as secure as possible. They set certain requirements on those who joined them on their world. The world and its moon could not be a social democracy or even republic. It was literally House Presba's Estate. There would be some democratic systems in place, but House Presba would set the forth the main rules and assign the appointees of government. That was the Estate's job. The estate would be run more like a ship or a corporation. The women tried to avoid overt feudalism, but that was how things were run in the Klingon Empire. On the other hand, anyone living there would have plenty of latitude. The women drew up a constitution, guaranteeing basic civil rights as the quadrants understood them, and delineating the obligations of living on Presba and then set up the enforcements. Here they would follow Klingon Law, with a few adjustments for their particular locale and sensibilities.

The longer the women lived there, the more they grew to appreciate the diversity of the flora and fauna of Presba. The naming of the creatures of the world happened like they always did, mostly by accident or comparison to that which is familiar. Like most Klingon worlds this one had its dangers. That apparently was a criteria for Klingon settlements. There were Firedogs (canines named for their color of their coats and apparent personality), Hissing fits (a kind of large feral cat), Jumpteeth (a kind of leaping, hungry fish) and so on.

They kept the bigger, toothier animals out of the colony via a force-fence, one that was keyed to recognize the biology of the colony inhabitants. The smaller creatures, birds and fluffier beasts were generally let in, if they didn't set off a predator alert in the shields system. Klingons might not have chosen that method, but it worked for them.

Asil brought in a biodiversity team to evaluate how best to maintain the 'stock,' since Klingons would be using their planet and possibly their moon as a resort. They would expect to be able to Hunt. Unfortunately, many still were in the habit of consumption without preservation. And Vulcan had it's own history of bio-loss. The women had agreed that Presba and Matleh would be preserved from the start. So rules were created and a satellite system was put into place specifically to monitor and preserve the planet and the moon's biological uniqueness.

Vrald was enamored of the whole process of colony building, having never been there from the beginning before. He said it freshened his blood. And he and Phoebe and the other artists collaborated as they tried to fight the tide of hodgepodge that was usually inevitable, given the speed of growth. On the other hand, they had a lot of assistance. Those who joined the estate also wanted a beautiful abode. So there was some tearing down as well as building up.

And then there was the House Garden. A space was set aside for the Garden that Miral wanted. They didn't plant any of the seeds yet, since there was a chance that their family might someday return. But they set aside a park, a place near the main house, for the House Presba's Garden. The landscaping happened almost by accident since, not so oddly, given the community, works of art, public and otherwise, began springing up all over the place.

The Estate Presba was shaping up into something quite unique in the Beta Quadrant.

==^==

Alexander's mind remained on Asil all the way out to a portion of the border between Klingon and Federation space and it stayed there once they reached their position. He found himself thinking of her during the quiet moments, of which there were plenty on a scout ship.

The border itself was uninteresting. They patrolled it assiduously, but no one was trying anything yet. War hadn't been declared so there were no aggressive moves. As a way to fill the time he began researching and trying to find out more about Vulcans.

==^==

Deanna Troi made one last try with Will and it went even worse than the previous time. It had not been pretty, but at least this time she hadn't cried. Instead she went cold in the way only a Betazoid could get and said very formally that he should be expecting paperwork soon.

Then she and Mr. Sundae had a date.

Surprisingly though, that was the only one.

==^==

If Asil was feeling the pressure of being head of the household, she did not indicate it. Instead she dug in and worked harder. It was as if she were trying to put something from her mind. Deanna would catch a sense of something going on, but it was tricky business trying to get a Vulcan to talk about emotions that they claimed not to have.

So Deanna approached the issue sideways. “Asil, I was wondering if you had a moment.”

“Of course,” the Vulcan nodded easily and set aside her PADD. She settled her hands into her lap and gazed at Deanna.

“I was wondering,” the Betazoid started carefully, “If you've noticed any recent changes in yourself. For instance I have found myself craving a bit more... meat in my diet.”

Asil was silent for a moment and then inhaled, which was the equivalent of someone else clearing their throat uncomfortably. “I too have been experiencing departures in dietary urges.”

“Have you found yourself growling lately, say at suboptimal events?”

Again their was that inhalation and careful pause. “I have.”

“Me too.” The Betazoid considered what to say next. “Well, I suppose we shouldn't expect that our reactions will be the same as they always were. We've been physically altered, you know, by that energy force. I imagine that with discipline like yours it makes things a bit easier, but perhaps it would be unrealistic of me to think that these emotions don't have a place in the new me. Perhaps they serve a purpose. Yet, I know how disconcerting it has been for me. I was thinking we might add meditation to our physical training sessions. What do you think?”

“Vulcans have a tradition of meditation. Perhaps it is something in which I could assist?”

“Thank you, Asil. That would be very helpful. I'm sure Phoebe is also feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Even though we all seem to be thriving.” Deanna moved as if to go, then turned. “Oh, and Alexander posted me a very interesting question earlier today. I didn't want to share information you did not wish passed on. He inquired as to your marital status. What would you like me to tell him?” Asil said nothing for a good while and Deanna thought perhaps she wasn't going to reply at all. “Well,” she began, “I suppose I can just tell him...”

Asil's interruption was abrupt. “You may inform him that I am currently unaffiliated. As you know, my previous engagement was discontinued due to a different mate preference.”

Deanna felt Asil's rawness at the center of that statement. “Asil, they obviously did not understand the value of what they had.”

“Nor does Will Riker.”

“His loss.”

“Yes.” Asil acknowledged. “It was.”

And Deanna nodded at Asil's unconscious mix in terms. “May I ask a different, related, but nosy question?”

Asil cocked an eyebrow, then surrendered to the inevitable. “You may.”

“When should we expect you to wish to travel back to Vulcan for... personal reasons?”

Asil was impressed with the discreteness of the query. She answered. “I do not know. I... have not felt myself lately. It has been over six years since my engagement was ended so abruptly. Yet, it is not time, nor do I actually wish to return to Vulcan should... certain events come into play. I would rather stay home.”

Deanna reached out and clasped one of Asil's hands. She spoke in Presba Tongue, “I understand. What can we do to prepare?”

Asil looked up and knew Deanna was family. The Betazoid exuded only the willingness to help. So Asil began to tell Deanna of her, and her brothers', radical plan.

==^==

General Torres was indeed able to contact someone for Sela. The Romulans were beamed aboard with hardly a moment's notice. If they realized that they were missing the small hidden weapons they always carried, neither of them commented. The really important equipment had remained.

They were greeted by three creatures they'd only seen in battle and one they'd never seen before. The one they'd never seen before stepped up. He had red, yellow and orange spots along the ridges of his face, and bright orange whiskers and hair. His eyes were dark and his ears pointed. His face was very expressive. “Welcome to Voyager!” he said enthusiastically as he embraced the Romulans. He lead them down from the transporter platform, with his hands on their backs. And then let them go.

Then he introduced himself. “I am Neelix of the House Presba and I'll be one of your guides to our fair ship. This is Commander Xepal, and her mates, Ensigns Dekut and Kuva. They are clan Star Fist. They're from the Delta Quadrant like myself. They're Zakeeri, which is an absolutely fascinating culture. Very similar to the Klingon's. A little different, of course, given their height. But there are several commonalities. Including a great sense of adventure. They will be coming with us and will act as your guides in case I am called away. Now I won't be able to show you the whole ship, for security reasons. But I'm sure you'll enjoy what we do have to show you. And General Torres mentioned that you really wanted to get some interviews. It's possible that the Prime of the House Presba may be available soon. So you've picked a good time to come aboard.”

Sela didn't mention that she hadn't picked the time at all. She made the signal to check and see if Tak had been rolling and got a positive nod. So she smiled pleasantly, even as the creature continued blithely along “Now, if you'll follow me please, I thought we'd start off in ...”

==^==

Dr. Pulaski blinked at the Romulans and the camera and then grimaced. She looked like she'd been standing for hours and was getting ready to stand some more. “Look, I don't have time for this. I have surgery in five minutes. Dr. Zimmerman, come here. These people want to conduct some interviews. Keep it short and sweet and the same for the patients.” She turned to the Romulans. “Most of these kids are still healing. We've had to replace so many organs I've lost count. I don't want to have to replace more because they got overtaxed. Got me?”

“Of course, Doctor Pulaski,” promised the Talaxian. “We'll be very careful.” He turned to the Romulans. “Dr. Pulaski is the head of the medical department. She is a remarkable physician.”

The doctor ignored the flattery and gave them another threatening glare for good measure. “Don't mess up my Sickbay,” she said pointedly, and then went to get prepped.

Dr. Zimmerman on the other hand smiled warmly and welcomed the guest. “Don't be put off by her brusqueness today. We've had so many surgeries lately that she's a little grumpy. It would be taxing on anyone with less stamina and she's due to go rest again soon.” He looked with concern in her direction, then turned his attention back to the Romulans. “She is honestly a wonderful person once you get to know her. I've learned a great deal from her. If you're around when she does her rounds, you'll see what I mean.” He clapped his hands together gently, quietly. “Now. Where shall we start?”

==^==

As promised they kept their interviews brief with both the doctor and with the injured. The interview with Commander Veckma had been particularly enlightening. Sela had never met a Klingon without ridges before, but she found him to be remarkably charming. He talked about the battle on the ground and answered her questions with grinning enthusiasm. And some of those answers let her know without doubt that he was Klingon. Captain Al'xandr was another scoop. He talked about the battle in space and what the great fight the Pharaoh Cartel put up. She tried to get him to talk a bit about his father, but he ducked those questions and only answered the ones having to do with the battle. She didn't push, though under other circumstances she might have. His coughing had gained the attention of the young medical intern, Icheb Hansen.

Icheb Hansen of the House Presba, after he helped Al'xandr, answered Sela's questions about himself with calm, personable neutrality. She'd been about to ask him more, when a Klingon woman in a medical smock, whom the Talaxian identified as Dr. Dehze, shooed them out.

After that, the Talaxian took them to the Mess Hall. He said they'd have more opportunity to meet and interview people there than any place else on the ship.

==^==

The Mess Hall was bustling. The room was filled with people eating, laughing, talking, drinking. There were several tables, some individual, some group, and one very long table that had plenty of people either sitting at the table... or above it. The platform above the table was occupied by small, multi-armed warriors. They appeared to be in animated conversation over a communal dish. People would walk by, grab something, stay and talk or continue walking on as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And, Sela supposed, it probably was to these people. The sight of the crest proudly displayed on the back of the small warriors' jacket did cause the Romulan to smile a little more than she ought to have, but it was quite amusing to think that these tiny beings were of House Presba.

She wondered what General Torres thought. Then she recalled how the little ones had fought and realized that they'd acquitted themselves adequately. Comical they might seem, but they came with teeth. And phasers.

Now she knew she was going to have to interview some of them. And some Zakeeri. And some of those ... bushy haired ones. And... just anyone, actually, from this special ship.

Sela spotted at least two Truth Seekers at the table. They both appeared to be listening intently to whatever the other person was saying. One, a human male, was obviously weeping and the brown haired Betazoid with him was holding his hand, nodding and speaking gently. On the other end of the table, the red-head Betazoid that Sela recognized from the security feeds, was listening to what appeared to be an ongoing conversation and acting as a referee.

The Romulans just looked at each other in astonishment. Sela screwed up her courage. “Would... one of the Truth Seekers be available for an interview.”

“Possibly. We can probably take a seat by Counselor Nael and just join the conversation. Those two she's with can go at it for hours. But she tells me they're making progress. Let's go see if we can get a word in. Oh, and do you want anything to eat?”

“Not right now, thanks.”

“Alright then.” The Talaxian led them straight to the Truth Seeker. He waited for someone to pause for breath and then said, “Pardon me Counselor Nael, would it be possible to break into the conversation for a minute?”

The Truth Seeker looked at the two people who were sitting with her. “Is this something we can continue at another time gentle beings?” They looked at each other, then at her and nodded.

In a few minutes the chairs that had been occupied were suddenly empty and the Truth Seeker waved an elegant hand. “Please, take a seat, Sela and Tak. I've been looking forward to meeting you since I saw the broadcast.”

The Romulans tried not to gulp and the Betazoid watched them with some amusement. “Please, you are safe on this ship. The usual social rules that you know do not apply here. Well, there are some similar rules of course, but your lives are in no danger here. Voyager is our home, which means it is our haven. Understand?”

Sela felt her heart slam a little slower, a little less loudly in her ears. “Of course, Truth Seeker. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us.”

“Of course.” Priam Nael smiled warmly. “Now, what would you like to talk about?”


	20. Chapter 20

Sela and Tak were both a bit dazed by the time they were done with the Counselor. Somehow they both felt better about many things, yet they weren't sure how they'd arrived there. The Counselor had been kind, probing gently, but without force. Somehow they ended up answering her questions rather than vice versa, yet neither felt as if they'd lost out in that.

Not that she didn't answer some of their questions. She told them how Truth Seekers were seen on Voyager and what their mandate was. Then she explained about the culture of the ship and gave them some tips on who to interview next.

But it didn't change that they had probably both revealed more about themselves than they'd intended. And, more, felt good about it. Not that anything that they'd said would make it to the final cut. But then, she'd probably known that. This had been for them, individually.

She had listened so sympathetically. There had been none of that usual superiority. And they'd relaxed enough that when someone put plates and wine in front of them, they'd just eaten like they would at any good friend's house. Sela realized that the Counselor had meant it. They were in a safe place. Safe to eat. Safe to talk. Safe to laugh. Safe to say what was on one's mind.

She also realized, sometime later, that as soon as their conversation had turned personal, they'd suddenly had space around them. The people who had been near were suddenly absent. The Voyagers respected privacy. Sela found herself remembering the last part of their conversation.

“They're not afraid of you here.” Sela had finally commented.

“No,” confirmed the Truth Seeker. “I'm not here to put the fear of the Divine in them. I'm here to help them to find their truth. Thus the title Counselor before my name. Now, mind you, my job is different, say than a Shamanic Truth Seeker or a Judicial Truth Seeker.”

“Lwaxana Troi,” commented Tak.

“Yes. Right now she is wandering around working at court with her mother-in-law, who happens to be a Judge. So her approach to the Truth is refined in that direction. Now, say, if she were an Ambassadorial Truth Seeker of the House Presba, you might see her in a completely different light. Or, if I were called to act in a Judicial capacity, you might have a reason to walk carefully around me, for the same reason that people are careful around Lwaxana Troi.”

“Do you read minds?”

“The House Presba ethos is very much about doing that which is at the heart of honor. Would it bring honor to my house if I just willy-nilly dipped into people's thoughts, their privacy?”

“Uh... no, I guess it wouldn't.”

“Correct. However, that doesn't answer your question, does it? Yes, I read minds. I can't help it. I am Betazoid. But I make a choice to respect the privacy of others. One must learn early how to block the thoughts and emotions of others on Betazed. Or else one will suffer. It takes great discipline and it is a skill that every Betazoid must develop. ” She smiled whimsically. “Still, blocking is not a perfect solution and there is a constant... background noise. I hear things whether I want to or not. But, even if I hear your surface thoughts, I respect your right to have them without my ongoing commentary.” She grinned at them pleasantly. “It's a difficult path to walk for a Betazoid, since we are constantly in each other's heads. On Betazed privacy is more of a state of graciousness in a social setting. Out here, our abilities do not simply turn off. It's an unavoidable hazard. And sometimes you'll get commentary from me whether you want it or not. But I try to walk the path of honor with my native skills. It is an interesting ongoing meditation and I believe it makes me stronger.”

“But, what if people offend you?”

“What? I'm supposed to go around mentally slugging everyone who has a bad thought about me?”

Neelix walked by with a tray of fruit. “Oh, Counselor, I can't think of anyone who has a bad thought about you!”

The Betazoid grabbed one of the palm-sized, ovoid, red fruits and smiled. “You'd be surprised. I ticked off the captain just the other day.”

“Well, that was different. You were doing your job.” Neelix sniffed, offered the basket to Sela and Tak, who each took one, and then he wandered off to offer the fruit to others.

“True.” The Truth Seeker had replied. Then she returned to their conversation. “But the point is that being on the defensive constantly is tiring work. And trying to control other people's thoughts is a bit like trying to control the wind. It's possible somewhat with a large enough umbrella, but wind still pushes through on the underside. Oh, sure, there's a reason that my people go about with toughness. This Universe often has a prey or predator consciousness. And no one wants to be prey. But... there are drawbacks. People duck and cover when you walk by. And, unless you're of a certain kind of mindset, that too can be offensive. Don't you think?”

“I ...hadn't thought of it that way.”

“Who would you rather deal with? Someone who bravely speaks to you with honesty or... someone who cowers?”

“If you'd asked me that before the Battle of Pharaoh System, I'd have said that Betazoids prefer the ones who cower.”

“No. We just prefer not to be the ones cowering. Since that is worse than the pain of seeing others flinch. What hurts you, hurts us. Still it is better to be top dog, even if it hurts. And that is why the Betazoids make sure to strike hard and in memorable ways. We don't want to have to do it again. Well, most of us anyway. But still it makes one search for... better ways.” The Betazoid looked thoughtful. Then said, “I can only speak from my experience. I was lucky. We all have choices about who we want to be. We all have choices about how we are going to act and how we want others to act towards us. I chose to join the House Presba for a reason. In that choosing, I chose a different path than most, because I wanted... the challenge of what it would call me to be and I liked what I saw in the people who were already of the House.”

Sela looked like she'd been given gold. “You know, I think you may be the first one to ever explain this.”

The Truth Seeker took a bite of fruit and inclined her head. When she finished the bite she said, “Well, I'll leave it to you to decide how much you want to include in your broadcast. But I will point out that, not all Betazoids would be pleased with having such news... spread about. And things are what they are in this Universe.”

The Romulans both paled. Sela promised, “We will be discreet.”

“For your own sakes, my friends.” She indicated the room. “In the House, safe. Out of the House, plenty to worry about. Yes?”

As a Romulan, it was a concept that Sela was familiar with. “You have said truth, Truth Seeker.”

“That would be the point. Otherwise, why bother with the title.” The counselor smiled. “Well, I'm sure you've heard enough from me. I have an appointment to keep. If you will excuse me?” She began to stand up. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.”

“The pleasure was mutual, Truth Seeker.” And, surprisingly, Sela absolutely meant it.

==^==

Neelix proved correct about the Mess Hall. There were plenty of the crew of Voyager who were willing to sit for a moment and talk.

She interviewed some of the Ylfians at the communal dinner. Interviewing them was like interviewing a flowing river. One would start the story, then just arbitrarily go away to grab something to eat or do something else. But someone else would take up the story or answer and finish it. Then someone else would answer the next question. There was a sense of constant motion, perhaps because they were constantly using their hands and tail to emphasize points or pick up food, or pick up one of their tiny children.

They offered to let her hold one of the younglings and, given her current phobia about touching she very nearly said no. But then Sela remembered she was on camera. She had to do it. Well, she didn't have to, but... she had to.

She held out her arms, not knowing what to expect. The mother used its tail to settle the child into Sela's hands. “This is my daughter, Carta,” she introduced the child.

The little being settled trustingly into Sela's palms and looked up at her with surprisingly wide eyes. Her thoughts were soothing, a balm. She existed in a reality of love and well loved. She liked the gold of Sela’s hair and the way her ears were pointed.

Sela found that she liked the tiny Ylfian back, very much. “It's very nice to meet you, Carta.”

The child had laughed and clapped her tiny hands. All four of them.

Sela was beyond charmed.

Then she felt, rather than saw, the shadow of a tall, tall being nearby. She looked to her right and heard a small squeal. “Niqua!” Actually, she heard several small joyful shouts.

Suddenly her hands were empty, and the tall, lavender creature, had a bounty of Ylfian children clinging to her person. The creature smiled patiently and explained, “I teach. Yes?” She indicated the small huggers with a wave. “Manners still learning. Yes?” Then with gentleness, she began liberating herself one Ylfian at a time, with gentle greetings for each. It was obvious that the little tykes adored Niqua. It was equally obvious that Niqua adored the Ylfians. All of them.

Then Sela felt realization hit. “This is a generational ship!”

The Kutwutchu nodded as she handed another child to one of the grown Ylfians. “Yes. Families are.”

“But... how could you bring children into the battle.”

“Life is risk.” The Kutwutchu said evenly, peacefully. “Warrior families.”

“Warrior families...”

“All defend the Home. Voyager is Home. Home is safe here or there. Anywhere.”

“So you're saying that you have good defenses.”

“Yes. Excellent.” The Kutwutchu was finally Ylfian free. She bowed serenely. “Please excuse. Dinner must.”

“Oh. Of course. Thank you for explaining.”

Sela turned to look at a wide eyed Tak and they passed a glance of amazement between themselves. Then they went on with the interview with the Ylfians. Then some Zakeeri showed up, they said they were of the Glory Dragon Clan. They were convivial and relaxed. They cheerfully talked about the battle and how they expected more from the Pharaoh Cartel, but maybe they'd find a real battle someday.

Then the Zakeeri introduced them to two Kazons. “This is Alept and Josa of the House Presba.”

Sela nodded, “So tell us, where are you from and what did you think of what you accomplished?”

The Kazon happily began to describe their thoughts for Sela and Tak. By the time they were done, Sela had a few more details about how the ship functioned and the place of the Marines on board.

She was pretty impressed. So was Tak.

The captain never did make it to the Mess Hall, but then Sela didn't expect to see either the captain or the Epatai before the General did.

Xepal led the two Romulans back to the transporters and bid them fare well. Blue sparkling light took them away and put them back where they started.

Tak went immediately to a console and then looked at his companion with amusement. “You were right. There's not a peep from the bugs we planted.”

Sela shrugged and began plugging in data cartridges. “Probably a good thing. I like knowing there is one place in the Universe besides home where one can have a secure conversation.”

“Indeed. Let's get these videos edited and the originals shredded.”

==^==

Eventually the Epatai and her mates, even in their differing locations, did rejoin the rest of the Universe and in a shorter amount of time than some might have assumed. Less than thirty hours later and they were back in the swing of things. A new serenity marked them. Where before there had always been a bit of a growl in their tone, that had gentled to something approximating what others had known before. But they were still changed. There was still that hint of something dangerous in their eyes.

On Voyager, the adults set about reconnecting with their children first and then reacquainted themselves with ship's business, including joining in on the various repairs. A message was sent to General Torres that they would be able to make themselves available at her convenience. That had brought up a bit of a laugh in the General, but she sent back a message with a time, if they provided the place and the dinner.

It was agreed. And the Voyager hinted strongly that the General would expect a certain son to be the cook.

On the IKS Thanatos, Lwaxana and T'Pel were greeted warmly, if a bit teasingly, by their mother-in-laws. They watched the broadcasts, both the Battle and the interviews. In a very small way, for them, it was anti-climatic. Yes, it was good to literally see their mates. But at the same time, they'd just spent long distance quality time with them. They knew what they needed to know.

There were some interesting results of all of this, however. Lwaxana Troi had received a communication from one Fifth House of Betazed. It wasn't actually from the Deanna Troi of this Universe, but from Deanna's assistant who informed the Truth Seeker that Deanna Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, Truth Seeker, would be making a visit to the Bajoran Sector and would like to meet with Lwaxana Troi of the House Presba, Truth Seeker, at her convenience upon their arrival.

Lwaxana got a bit weepy there for a bit. T'Pel held her until the Betazoid was able to return to a less emotional state.

Lwaxana was about to pop off a reply when she was stopped by Nelav. “No. Please. Let me do the replying, until you meet her face to face. It's appropriate and,” The Deian hesitated, but continued, “...you do not know her true motivations. Remember, her mother is dead. You do not know how she arrived at that state of being.”

Nelav's caution did put a chill on Lwaxana's enthusiasm and reminded her, that, despite the things that had been set right, she was still in a different and complicated Universe. “Thank you, Nelav.”

The Deian smiled, “I am merely watching over the interest of the House I seek to join. I would be unworthy if I had not cautioned you.”

==^==

Sickbay was occupied and still busy when Captain Janeway entered the area. She did a brief scan, noting that all of the bio-beds were full. Dr. Zimmerman was in the medical office, apparently working on paperwork. Crewman Bev was monitoring the patients. She smiled quietly at the captain, nodding her head respectfully, then she continued her work.

Dr. Pulaski was talking with one of the patients and looked about dead on her feet. Kathryn frowned mightily at the sight.

She felt a tug at her arm and looked to her left to see her son, Icheb.

“Mom,” he said, “It is good to see you.” He smiled warmly at her and Kathryn found herself smiling back. She patted his hand.

“And to see you. I see you all have worked very hard.”

“Yes. It was challenging. I enjoyed it very much.” He then indicated Dr. Pulaski with a tilt of his head. “She is an amazing surgeon. Despite appearances, she did rest. But there were so many.”

“I understand, Icheb.”

“I knew you would Mom. I've already spoken with Dr. Pulaski and I will be home in time to fix dinner, but I have a few more duties to perform. If you'll excuse me?”

“Of course, son.”

Now Kathryn found herself looking at her... wife. She always thought of Kate as her wife. It was years long ingrained habit that had not altered with time. Or, apparently, shifts in reality.

Kathryn made a decision.

She walked to the bed where Kate was talking. The healing woman in the bed spotted her first and smiled. “Captain! We did good, didn't we.”

“That you did, Ensign Jenson. We're mighty proud of you.” Kathryn took the risk and put her hand on Kate's shoulder.

The other woman sighed a bit, leaned back a tiny bit unconsciously, as she felt the support. The captain smiled warmly at the ensign. “I hope you don't mind, but Dr. Pulaski is needing to head to her quarters.”

Kate offered a small protest. “I don't ...”

“You're wobbling, Kate. Let me take you home and get you tucked in.”

“Captain I am...” It was as if Kathryn's words had sparked her brain into realizing how long she'd been awake. Kate yawned massively. The Doctor blushed. “... ready when you are,” she amended.

“Darling, I am always ready these days.”

Kate groaned. “Kathryn...”

“Shh. I shouldn't have teased when you're so tired.” Kathryn wrapped her arm around the Doctor. “Pardon us ensign.”

The ensign's eyes were wide, but she nodded. “Of course, captain.”

The Captain kept her arm around Dr. Pulaski and led her out of Sickbay, stopping first to let Dr. Zimmerman know. “Things are well in hand, Dr. Pulaski. You may trust me.”

The usually acerbic woman said through another yawn. “I do, Dr. Zimmerman. Wake me if you need me.”

The holographic doctor's expression seemed to say he'd only wake the other doctor if the corridors were flooded with Hirogen, the Borg, and species 8427. But he said, “Of course.”

Dr. Pulaski fell asleep standing in the turbolift. As she slumped, Kathryn Janeway caught Kate, then picked her up and easily carried her. Fortunately, there weren't that many people about and they respectfully got out of their way.

Once at the Doctor's quarters, Kathryn used her override command codes and entered the domicile. She carried Kate into the bedroom and realized her dilemma. Finally she settled on just laying the doctor on the top of the bed.

That movement was enough to prompt the doctor to open her eyes sleepily. “Where?”

“Your quarters, love.” Kathryn carefully removed Pulaski's boots, then set them on the ground. She then moved and helped the now sitting woman out of her jacket. “How undressed do you want to be?”

Kate's lips curled back in sleepy amusement. “You have to ask? I thought you knew me.”

Kathryn tisked and teased, “Now you've just made it a challenge.” She then began divesting the other woman of her clothes, gently, but completely. “Next time I'm hoping your awake enough to enjoy it.”

“m'wake,” mumbled the Doctor. “'n'joying.”

“Mmhmm. I can see that.” Kathryn resisted the urge to run her hands familiarly over that well loved body and tried to stay focused.

“Goodatthis...”'

“It's a skill I developed for you, dear. Okay now, under the covers.”

As soon as her head hit the pillow Kate was gone again. Kathryn shook her head in amusement and tucked the covers. Then she kissed the other woman on the forehead, like she had lifetimes before. “Sleep well, Kate-my-darling.”

==^==

At the appointed time General Torres was beamed over and was once again directly brought into the family quarters of the Epatai.

This time her attitude was completely different. She stood with ease, holding a large jug of Bloodwine. She smiled when she smelled the food and her smile grew when the younger of the children practically threw themselves at her. “Aunt B'Elanna!”

The hugging was just ending when she was greeted by a serenely beautiful Seven of Nine. “Welcome, General Torres. I sorrow that we missed your first visit.” The mate of the Epatai easily liberated the jug from the other B'Elanna. A part of her was calculating similarities and differences, cataloging them and storing them away for review later. She realized that her children had perceived correctly. This B'Elanna was easily distinguishable from her mate, not just by physical appearance and even without that subtle link. For some reason that pleased Seven of Nine immensely.

“No worries.” The Klingon waved her earlier visit away. “I had a good time anyway.” Then she got straight to the point and said. “Where is my sister?”

“Unfortunately, she and Kathryn are detained in the docking bay. They were helping with recalibrating a warp core and a flaw was found in one of the components.” Seven of Nine began walking to the dining area and, after patting one of the twins on the shoulder, B'Elanna followed.

“Your captain was helping with a warp core?”

“In the Delta quadrant it became important for all crew to be multifunctional. But Kathryn has always been a credible engineer.”

General Torres got the idea somehow that the blonde had just given her mate high praise. But she still felt a moment of peeve that the people she expected to see were not there.

Seven of Nine turned, as if reading her mind. “Do not worry, B'Elanna. They will be here. Voyager has been instructed to let them know when you arrived.” Then she set the jug on a table, which was elaborately prepared. Icheb who was cooking, nodded courteously at his aunt, but did not stop what he was doing.

“Well, I suppose I've waited this long...”

Ro Laren entered the area. “Waited this long for what?”

“B'Elanna and Kathryn have been detained.” Seven explained as she completed the settings.

“Of course, they have.” The Bajoran bowed slightly to the General. “Welcome to the family quarters, B'Elanna.” She turned to Seven, “You know, it's going to get confusing trying to keep track of two B'Elanna's during conversation.”

The General was amused by the frankness and said, “You can call me Belle while in family. I guess you're not going to try and convince me you're from our Delta Quadrant.”

“Belle, you're a General and you're B'Elanna. We know B'Elanna. We're not going to try and put one over on you. You want to wait here or go back to wait with the kids with me? We can talk and then Icheb will call us for dinner.”

“Let's go see my nieces and nephews.”

==^==

As it was, it wasn't long before Kathryn and B'Elanna arrived at their abode. Both of them looked a bit greased up and mussed, but they were having a pleasant dialog when they entered. They were quite involved in the discussion when they were greeted with some amusement by Ro Laren. “Well, if it isn't the prodigals!”

“We're not late!,” protested Kathryn. Then she said, with dismay, “Are we?”

“Not to dinner anyway.” Laren kissed them both and led them into the main area where General Torres was leaning forward on a plush seat and involved in discussion with the children. “Belle, they're here.”

The General looked up and then her expression quirked in amusement. “Well, I see you've got a legitimate excuse this time...” Belle stood up and crossed to where the Captain and the Epatai were standing. “Do you know how much trouble you've caused?” She poked B'Elanna in the chest.

“Now wait a minute,” Epatai Torres began.

Belle raised her hand and turned to the captain momentarily. “I am not talking about the Orion Syndicate. They've needed a good solid take down for years. It was beautiful to behold.” Then she turned back to B'Elanna. “But Humans. In a Klingon House. In House Presba.” The general turned back to the captain. “No offense. But it was a shock. I was barely getting used to the idea that there was a House Presba.”

The Klingon looked B'Elanna up and down. “And yet, here you all are.” She grimaced. “And you looking younger than me, and claiming to be Epatai. I really debated whether to let you get away with it. Who ever heard of a younger... sister... as Epatai? I ask you. But now it's out on the broadcast and it would be inconvenient to try and change the people of the Imperial Klingon Empire's mind. Two quadrants full of people, who now believe I have an expanded house. Do you know what the Chancellor is making me do?”

“He's ordered you to have children.”

“He's ord... Wait... How did you know?”

“Ours ordered us to do the same. Oh and we have to develop property and adopt War Orphans and... I don't know what else. Asil is handling that side of it.”

“Asil?”

“Our daughter on the flip side. She's T'Pel and Tuvok's child. Well, one of them anyway.”

“T'Pel I know. I haven't met her, but I've seen the trials. Who is this Tuvok?”

“He's our other Vulcan mate. He's the one who was operating the ship's phasers and torpedoes. And you still haven't talked with Mom yet?”

Belle was momentarily distracted by the implication of a Vulcan who manned the military power of Voyager and then she caught up. “Kahless. Is no tradition sacred to you? No I haven't talked with... mom... yet. What am I supposed to say to her? How many mates do you have?”

“Nope. Tradition doesn't hold much appeal for me. But don't fret. It's very sacred to Miral and,” she turned and looked with some amusement at a certain blonde Borg, “Seven has her own ideas about it. I'm sure they'll get us on the path of some sort of Klingon righteousness eventually. And, you just say hello and let the conversation go from there. Of course, I'm one to talk. It took me getting lost in the Delta quadrant to begin speaking with her again. And, I think we're working on an eighth. Right now we're a total of seven.”

“An Eighth?!”

“It's a long story. Too complicated to tell until things get more settled. But I promise, if we're still here or things work out that way, we'll tell you. It's too juicy to keep secret and I wouldn't be able to tell anyone else.”

“Juicy,” Belle repeated thoughtfully. Then she grinned. “Oh you really are me.”

“Well now, haven't we established I'm your kid sister. I've always wanted to be someone's kid sister.”

“Fortunately for you, I've always wanted a kid sister.” She looked speculatively at the other woman. “Oh, and you and I, we're meeting on the mat. Soon. I want to try against you.”

“Belle,” the Klingon hesitated. “I and my ...”

“Oh I know you're enhanced. Laren explained some of it to me. But I still want to see it for myself. It's one thing to see a broadcast. It's another to experience it for oneself.”

“I guess I can understand that.”

“Of course you can.” Belle grinned. Then she grimaced at Kathryn. “And you, Captain. Why couldn't you wait fifteen hours?! We were on the way.” The Klingon held up her hands and made throttling motions. “But no! You ... Arrg.” Belle shook a finger at Janeway. “Next time I get to pick the time of battle and it happens when I say.”

Kathryn didn't point out that there was no way for them to know that General Torres was on her way and their plans had been entirely independent of what the Klingons might or might not want. She just recognized it was time to nod her head. “We'll keep that in mind next time we go seeking out Orion Syndicate in this Universe.”

“See that you do!” Growled the General. Then she smiled warmly. “You are a marvel. A human who can make grown Orions cry. We must talk. Oh, and the Chancellor orders you to accompany me back to Terok Nor. You will not say no. He is calling on your obligations as a declared House of the Empire. The Intendant has been giving us some grief and we'd...” she borrowed a phrase from her new sibling. “...like to set her on the path of Klingon Righteousness. We thought Miral might be the one to do it, but now...” B'Elanna smiled toothily and clapped her hand hard on Kathryn's shoulder. The Human didn't budge under the pressure, but she did wince a little. “Now we have some very good examples of what we expect from a people of the Empire.

“Oh, one more thing. Due to your stunning success in the Battle of Pharaoh System, Voyager and her crew and your captures, so long as they remain with the House and are marked somehow, have been given complete immunity. The rules of slavery do not apply to you and yours. And upon arrival you will be granted certain responsibilities and the power to act on behalf of the Empire. Do not abuse this. It will annoy the Chancellor and bring dishonor to my House. Understand?”

Kathryn cleared her throat. “We will do our best to see that he does not regret his decision.”

“Good.” The Klingon General nodded sharply. “Now. I'm hungry. When do we eat?”

==^==

The meal had been delicious and filling. The adults traded war stories and commentary about their divergences in culture.

“So you're telling me that up until almost a year ago this was a by-the-book Federation ship.”

“Kathryn was more uptight than a ...,” B'Elanna started.

“Don't say it,” warned Kathryn teasingly.

“What changed?”

Kathryn pondered the question and opted for a modified truth. “I had a nightmarish experience which led to an epiphany.”

“Ah. I know about those.” The general grabbed a roll and drank some more wine. “This was delicious Icheb. Thank Kahless you didn't make me a Klingon meal. You have no idea.”

“I hate Gagh too.” B'Elanna mentioned as she spooned another helping of something that was definitely not the wiggly excuse for a snack that many Klingons adored.

“Okay, so you have an idea.” Belle acknowledged.

“What I don't know is how you choke it down.”

“Willpower.”

B'Elanna mocked shuddered. “Then I don't envy you your position. Some things just aren't worth it.”

“Hah!” Then the Klingon smiled and pointed at Kathryn with the knife she was buttering the roll with. “I hear rumors though, that your mother cooks a very edible Gagh.”

The captain blinked. “What?”

“I have some men aboard my ship who were on the Klingon Justice, Miral's... Mom's... ship. Apparently Gretchen was the cook.” Belle grimaced. “Kahless, the complaining when they came aboard. They loved Gretchen's food. I don't know what she served them, but I do know they would kill for her if she lifted her little finger at someone.”

“Oh my.”

“And I see your Icheb takes after her. You'd better guard him like latinum in a vault. Someone finds out he cooks like this...” She grinned and took another healthy bite.

“Trust me, these kids are our treasures, but ...”

“They kick ass, when they want to.”

“Of course. They're House Presba.”

“Well, that too.”

After dinner, in a fit of Klingon logic, Belle challenged B'Elanna to a throw down to “work off some steam.”

It was a throw down alright on Holodeck 2, with Belle landing on the ground and seeing more stars than she could count. It wasn't that General Torres was slow or unskilled. It was that Epatai Torres could move like lightening and that was with holding back. Still they fought like tigers until Belle called the match, and waved the captain forward. “I want to see you in action. Both of you. This time, show me everything. Go to first blood.”

It was a test of sorts, to see if they were the kind of warriors who were afraid to take it all out. Also, she hadn't really had a chance to observe Kathryn in action, like she'd seen her sister.

Belle observed that they moved as quickly as indicated on the broadcast and clashed hard, if a bit more silently. She realized the difference was that they weren't growling at each other. This was... exercise to them... not a kill zone.

They punched and kicked and dodged and ducked and punched some more. She barely kept track of them, but she heard the sounds of connections being made. Then she saw the flash of metal. She didn't know who had drawn their weapon first, but one moment it was just physical contact, and the next... there was the sound of the match being called by Voyager herself. “First blood, B'Elanna Torres, strike right arm.”

“I'll get you next time,” Kathryn said, as she wiped sweat off of her face. She ignored the wound on her arm. She'd had worse.

“Next time we'll do two out of three.” B'Elanna promised amiably, as if this was something they did all the time.

“You'll do,” nodded General Torres. “Now, Voyager, I want playback in slow motion. Let's take a look at their technique.”


	21. Chapter 21

Sirella, daughter of Linkasa and wife of Martok was not one who usually made house calls. Usually, people came to her, if they wanted to make a connection with a Great House. But these were not the usual kind of people and it was something her husband wanted.

What she did not understand was why her husband suddenly had such an interest in these women. If she hadn't known that he adored her, she might have been jealous. On the other hand, she heard rumors that people who needed refuge, who were not inclined to leave Klingon space just because of a falling out of the governments, had found a place there. And she knew that the women were doing good works, taking in War Orphans. True, they were a small house, but at least they took on some.

Which indicated a certain amount of honor.

She decided she would go see these people herself and see if they were worthy of a Klingon House name or not.

She had her assistant make the call. She would be arriving at the Estate of Presba soon.

==^==

A few days later and clean up and repair were done. Captain Al'xandr had his ship back, thanks to the effort of the Voyager crew, and he had his crew at full strength, thanks to General Torres. When he boarded his ship it was almost like new and his engine and several other features had been completely redesigned by Dr. Leah Brahms and Annika Hansen and some of the willing engineering crew. The fixes were also done without Leah and Annika having investigated fully what was available on Voyager. They used available core of knowledge of this Universe. If they'd had time to see what Voyager could provide, he would have found a lot more to awed about. Not that he knew that. What he did know, once he was underway, was that his ship was now probably the fastest and most powerful scout in the Empire.

Certainly once they did start to investigate what was going on with Voyager they knew they were someplace wonderful. Leah would have to be pried away from the starship now. There were marvelous mysteries to discover. And she knew something was up by the way the crew behaved when she first indicated that she thought the ship was a mere vessel. Of course, that was before she was introduced to the Zakeeri ships. Then she understood and knew she had to get to know Voyager and the Zakeeri ships much, much better.

Annika on the other hand, had other temptations.

General Torres did visit Voyager a few more times. She spent time learning more about the ship and its crew. She also spent time with Annika Hansen. They walked in the Park, shared dinner, visited holo-programs that others recommended to them. If Annika had worried about Belle being too Klingon, she found that they were unfounded. Belle was sensitive, caring, and honorable in her wooing.

Belle found Annika to be good company. She also found her very attractive. She realized that while Seven of Nine was beautiful, she was not for her. But Annika. Annika was vulnerable, yet strong. Capable, but willing to step back. They communicated well with each other. And there was spark - that certain something, when they were near to each other.

They found common ground and Klingons do not waste time when it comes to relationships.

“Come stay with me, Annika. I do not wish to be separated when we depart for Bajor.”

“I am free on this ship. On your ship, will I be slave again?”

It was a big question. “If you wear the mark of the House Presba, you will be free.”

“I will come.”

As they prepared to leave, no one opted to stay behind in the Pharaoh System. Some colonists might come by some day to take it over, but they wouldn't be using any of the demolished spaces. Pharaoh was abandoned for a different future.

With little fan fare, Voyager, the scout Tabor and the general's ship Tor'stag started for Terok Nor.

==^==

While on their way to Terok Nor, B'Elanna sat upon the couch in the family quarters, stroking her fingers through soft blonde hair. Seven lay on the couch with her head in B'Elanna's lap. The were watching a centuries old movie, a pastime that Tom had successfully drawn the Klingon into. It was a Romantic Comedy, one which had B'Elanna laughing and Seven smiling.

It was a rare evening, with just the two of them. The captain had other obligations, as she worked out arrangements with their new kinswoman. The kids were either in bed or out. The engines were purring and she and Seven were off duty at the same time.

Quality time.

Belle had asked B'Elanna how she managed them, how she tried to control everything. B'Elanna had laughed and said that she didn't. That her family were free adults, whom she happened to love. They managed themselves and rejoiced when they had time to be together. Seven actually did more of the scheduling, when it came to that. She just had a better head for it. If one person could be pointed to as keeping things running in the craziness, then it was her precious Borg.

Which meant, of course, that Seven deserved whatever moments of idleness she would allow herself to indulge in.

Like now.

B'Elanna felt the warmth in her soul grow and couldn't help the almost inaudible, “I love you, Seven.”

Seven smiled and replied in similar low tone, “And I you, BangwI.”

The Klingon gazed down on her loved one a little longer, ignoring the story in favor of real beauty. And it was perhaps one of those things that her brain just clicked on the awareness. “Kahless, you're the Mistress of the House!”

Seven of Nine rolled over and looked up at B'Elanna. Her brow quirked whimsically. “Yes. I recall the moment it was decided, during the Ponn Farr. Why do you think of it now?”

“I was thinking of what it meant and of everything you do. I guess it just really hit. I had ... taken what you do for granted. I'm sorry Seven.”

Seven of Nine raised a cybernetically enhanced fingertip to B'Elanna's lips. “There is nothing to apologize for. Transparency is part of how this works. Do not fret.” She let her fingertip drop

“But I haven't been introducing you correctly.”

“When it is time, when it is appropriate, you will. I am not worried. Nor am I offended. Just...” Seven gazed warmly at her Klingon. “love me and never stop. I do not think I could survive it.”

“You won't have to worry about that, my mate. You are forever in both my hearts.” B'Elanna leaned in and began to kiss Seven of Nine. It was as if fire leapt from their lips. She groaned and the kiss deepened. When they pulled back, she laughed a bit huskily, “Of course, if this happens to us this often... I don't think you have to worry.”

“The Zakeeri say it will ease in time.”

“They said that nearly a year ago, Seven.”

“Less talking my mate. Kiss me again.”

B'Elanna obliged and the movie was quickly forgotten.

==^==

Terok Nor looked like a giant slowly whirling, dangerously shaped Top in space. Of course, it was no toy. It was an important Alliance base. It was home to the Intendant Kira Nerys, a native of the Bajoran Sector. The station was originally created to be a Uridium processing plant, but once the wormhole opened, the processing plant was shut down in favor of using the station as a fort and galactic port. The station bristled with weapons and was surrounded by ongoing traffic, though all attempts to enter the wormhole had been thwarted by various events – including the literal “spitting out,” of ships from the spatial orifice.

They knew that there was a passage way. They just did not understand why they were not being let through.

Still, people dared, every time the worm hole opened and the station made latinum over hand over fist in repair costs, for both ship and person.

One would have thought the gorgeous Intendant would be happy.

But Kira Nerys hadn't been happy since her other self had gone skipping away to the alter-verse. And people suffered for it. The Bajoran Intendant was of average height and sleek physique. She wore her red hair short and wore leather like she'd been born to it. She was ruthless when it came to running the station, but not necessarily un-compassionate. Though that side of her was recently seen less and less these days.

She had business arrangements of various types, including certain piracy agreements. That had slowed down to a halt after the Battle of Pharaoh System, as the Syndicate entire went to ground in an effort to avoid the same fate.

What made it worse was that, for some reason, Terok Nor had been designated the site for certain trials. So now they awaited the arrival of the famed Miral Torres and her court. She almost wished she could pray to the Prophets her other self had talked about.

As it was, all she could do was make preparations and plans. Perhaps, if she played her cards right, some good might come out of all this.

==^==

Terok Nor was more urbane than any of the women on the Klingon Warship had expected. The three ex-slaves had vague memories of transit through the station and for some reason the Miral and Lwaxana had expected it to be the opposite of Deep Space 9. Looking at the actual station, however, they felt a little silly about their assumptions. There were still shops and restaurants. In fact, it could be said, to a certain extent it was even more developed compared to DS9, since it had never been sabotaged and disabled. It had only ever been upgraded.

True, there were more people in leather, sporting weaponry, and looking dangerous, but one could find that in their other Universe on a non-Federation station.

Their other Universe... now that was a funny way of thinking of it. At some point, Miral and her companions had come to think of this Universe as home, just as much as the other Universe was home. But it was true these days.

Still, this Universe constantly managed to surprise them.

Upon arrival they were contacted by an administrative assistant who told them that the Intendant was not currently available as she was away on Bajor for a major Bajoran Holiday.

“May she celebrate her holiday in joy,” said Miral politely.

After the assistant left she turned to Lwaxana, who said, “He was telling the truth as he saw it. Intendant Kira Nerys is away on holiday. Of course, it is interesting that he personally came on board just to tell us that.”

“This Kira is going to be tricky, I think.”

“Well, we're technically not here to judge her. I don't know what she thinks she has to be worried about.”

“Oh she has plenty to be worried about,” interjected the General. “The Intendant is a protected position. An Intendant can get away with a lot, but this one... she stretches the limit. We do not wish to relieve her of the position if we can avoid it. She has been effective in her job. We merely wish to point her in a better direction.”

“Which is why you haven't laid files in front of me, I suppose.” Miral said. “You know I'd have to act on them.”

“Precisely. You will get to know the Intendant on your own first, see if she is salvageable. If not, then ... well... I'll be leaving the files with General Torres. I'm sorry to report that I will have to leave you lovely women when she arrives in two days. The Chancellor calls me to a new duty. But your family is on the way and you will be under the trustworthy care of General Torres.”

“Well, we knew the day would come.” Miral smiled. “But we will miss your company.”

“And I you. On the other hand, it would be my honor to escort you anywhere on Terok Nor or Bajor while we're here. I understand the dining and the gambling is fine at Quarks.”

Gretchen's expression narrowed thoughtfully and she placed a fingertip to her cheek. These days she and T'Pel and the other three ex-slaves were dressed differently. As members of the House Presba, the rights of equality had been given them. They'd made certain adjustments. They all bore the crest of the House where it was visible. And, when Voyager arrived, they intended to take the mark as soon as possible. For herself, she just appreciated being able to say her piece at any time. “Just what holiday are they celebrating on Bajor? And how public is it?”

A few moments later with the online console and they knew.

It was the Summer Equinox Celebration for Bajor and a very public holiday. As soon as they turned on the broadcast, they knew where Intendant Kira was. She was just off the center of a major city street, standing on a dais, waving as a parade passed by. There were thousands and thousands of people lining the streets of Bajor.

“I thinking that not only is Intendant Kira tricky. She's good.” Nelav said as side commentary.

Miral grunted. “We will have to be better.” Then she grinned. “It will be fun.” Miral clapped her hands together. “So, who feels like going to a celebration?”

==^==

In this Universe, Bajor had not been conquered and had not been strip mined. The people did not hate the Cardassians, though they might hate specific members of the race. It was once a great empire, but had risen and fallen like many great empires do. Now it was part of the Klingon Empire as a sector. Bajorans owned slaves and bowed to Klingons, but ran their own world – with the supervision of the Intendant.

Thus Kira Nerys’ importance at the solstice celebration as figurehead. Only Kira Nerys, of all Bajorans did not have to bow to a Klingon General. So, as she was descending the steps making her final waves, when she turned and saw General Martok at the bottom of the steps, she did not. Instead she continued smiling and waving as if nothing unusual had happened to her plans and the people continued cheering. Except for that small section at the bottom of the steps. In fact, that small section had been cleared a bit, given the Klingon guards who surrounded General Martok and his guests.

Kira Nerys knew she couldn't stall. She made her way down and was smiling tightly when she was greeted by the General. “Intendant Kira. You look well.”

“General Martok.” She wished him happy summer season in Bajoran. “It is a great pleasure to see you.” She laid her palm on the arm that he extended to her in courtesy. “It is also a surprise.”

“Surely you didn't expect us to miss this great celebration, did you?”

“Well, it's so local...”

“But the wine does flow, yes?”

“Of course.”

“May I introduce you to my guests?”

Kira did not gulp. She continued to smile pleasantly, socially and thought only good thoughts. Only thoughts of how wonderful this celebration was and how pleasant it was to see the General and how busy she was going to be. “Of course.”

So, General Martok introduced the members of the House Presba who were currently with him.

Kira noted that the women were dressed informally, including the Truth Seeker, which was a shock. She also noted that the Human and the Vulcan were attired, not as slaves, but as women of wealth. She resisted the urge to ask.

“Judge Miral, you will be pleased to know that a place has...”

Miral raised her hand. “Please. Let's not talk business today. It's supposed to be a celebration. I understand that you would know all the good places to go.”

“Oh, I wish I could. But I have obligations, you see. They've got me scheduled from now until quite late.”

“That is disappointing. But still, it was good to have a chance to meet you without all that.... formality. When you have a chance, please do let us treat you to dinner.”  
“I would be... honored.”

“Good.” Miral gave the Intendant a smile. “Well, General, it seems you just have us for company.”

The General patted the Intendant's hand and then smiled at Miral. “Well, I suppose I will just have to suffer. Intendant, may your celebration continue successfully. Ladies, if you'll come with me. I understand there is a place we can eat not far from here.”

They began walking and people bowed out of their way.

==^==

On Presba, things were just getting more and more interesting. The influx of people to the colony had slowed, at last. Asil's brothers, the twins Vedor and Tuvon, had arrived. Like their parents, they too were tall, brown and dark haired. Like the others of the family Presba, they had been going through disturbing physical changes.

They began helping as immediately as they arrived, applying themselves to the set up of the colony. They also applied themselves to working out the plan.

Stoneridge was unique in location. Due to mining and natural events there were several caverns located near the cavern. There was also a lake and a forest. Of interest to the Vulcans were certain sandy bottomed caverns that were naturally warm. One might almost say Vulcan hot. The volcano that Stoneridge was near was not anywhere near active, however it did provide some nice geothermal energy to the region. The intent of the Vulcans was to set up the equivalent of a monastery or temple. Anyone would be welcome, but it would be a suitable place for those difficult negotiations that took place during Ponn Farr sometimes. It would also be a good place as an alternative place of study to those Vulcans, who like themselves, were on the Klingon side of the border when it closed.

Only traders and certain military vessels made journeys between the quadrants now and, then, the trade ships made the journey mostly to neutral territory, such as Bajor. It suddenly made what House Presba was attempting to do, that much more valuable.

Vrald had finally, formally moved to Presba. He said he found it inspiring. It might have been more correct to say that he found Phoebe inspiring, but it was not something he would ever say. He considered himself an old man and Phoebe a young woman. She would make someone a beautiful mate and though her scent lured him, he resisted. She deserved someone younger.

Phoebe in the meanwhile, had similar thoughts about Vrald. Her justification was that he was a master in his field and had so many admirers, many of whom had followed him to Presba, that there was no way he'd think of her. After all, she was only ... mostly... human. He would want a Klingon woman if he ever chose someone and he had his pick.

They worked well together, however, and found themselves in each other's company daily. Vrald would come over and talk over ideas and plans while Phoebe worked on her art. Sometimes he would stay for an hour. Sometimes he would stay for the whole day. Of course, on the longer days, others were also likely to be visiting, either to see him or to see her. But there was plenty of room at Estate Presba and if the gathering got large enough, somehow Guinan also managed to show up and the food and the drink started flowing.

Meanwhile the colony continued its progression, becoming more and more vibrant as things got more settled and finished. The resort was not quite ready, but there were already people making reservations for vacations or stopovers. That surprised the family a bit, but they certainly weren't going to say no at this point. Instead they began, once again, hiring people to fill positions and prepped for travelers.

==^==

General Martok was as good as his word and the women played tourist on Bajor for the rest of that day. They visited important historical sites, participated in solstice party events, watched plays and visited with very important people – except for Intendant Kira. The Intendant continued to believe she was eluding them. But what she failed to realize was that they were taking the time to conduct socially informal interviews with people who might or might not have her best interests at heart. True, some of them might be a shade panicky at the sight of a Truth Seeker, but they warmed to the subject when they realized that the Truth Seeker had no interest in them personally.

It made for very interesting conversations.

One of the museums they visited had to do with the Human occupation of Bajor. It reminded Gretchen of a similar museum on Earth, which dealt with holocausts that humanity had perpetrated upon itself. She suddenly understood why the Bajorans who were in attendance looked askance at her when she entered, that is, until they recognized her and her companions. Then they bowed, and if they were really brave, greeted her as Councilor Janeway of the House Presba. She was always polite in return and bowed in return.

At the end, when they were leaving, Gretchen commented to the curator. “I grieve for the things that Humanity has done in this Universe. I would change it all if I could.”

“If more had been like yourself, Councilor Janeway, it would never have happened,” the curator had said. “Perhaps the future holds a better course for all of us.”

“One may hope.”

Still, for those moments of seriousness, they were surrounded by celebration. This was more like a vacation than anything they'd experienced so far and they took advantage of it. One thing they had learned was that one had to take one's chance at joy while one may.

==^==

Kate Pulaski fidgeted.

“Please hold still, Doctor. You of all people should know what delicate work this is.” Dr. Zimmerman chastised.

The Chief Medical Officer grimaced. “Sorry. My one consolation is this, at least, is temporary.”

“I'm sure the Captain would not be making you do it, were it not necessary.”

“Hmph.”

“You know... she came to see you while you were injured.”

Doctor Pulaski went very still. A few moments later she said, “She did?”

“Yes. Stayed awhile, even though she was ... well ... that is privileged information.”

Kate could guess. “She didn't tell me that.”

“Well, I'm sure the topic would have come up eventually,” Doctor Zimmerman said gently. There was quiet between them for awhile, then eventually he patted Dr. Pulaski just above her temple. “There. All done. Now, this mark only indicates that you are employed by the House. You'll need to wear the crest...” He handed her a metallic brooch, “... under your communicator.”

She grimaced and he paused. Then he said, “You know, I know it's none of my business, but...”

“Don't. Just don't, Zimmerman.”

“Ahem. Well. When you're ready for a different look, you can come to me. I've become quite expert at this, if I do say so myself.”

This time the other doctor smiled at him. “You do all right, Zimmerman. Never doubt it.”

==^==

Despite Captain Janeway's caution after the battle, she did not immediately put Leah Brahms to work. In fact, one might say she gave Dr. Brahms a great deal of latitude of similar variety to Seven of Nine's, with the difference being she did not set up a whole department just for her. But that might be the case in the future, if Dr. Brahms stayed with the ship. Leah found that she was in the company of great minds. Kathryn Janeway, it turned out, was a science officer before she was a captain. Seven of Nine was, of course, brilliant. And intriguingly Borg. As were her children. Lieutenant Torres was ingeniously intuitive when it came to mechanical things. Then there were the other scientists and engineers and doctors on board. Including, the famous Drs. Zimmerman and Pulaski.

It might be that being kidnapped was one of the greatest things that had happened to her – except for one thing. If she’d had a certain loved one with her, things would be perfect. As it was, it was only mostly perfect.

Still, Leah found there was plenty to keep her interest on the ship. There were artifacts, archaeological files, extraordinary adaptations and engineering feats of record, and then there was Voyager herself, to whom Leah was finally formally introduced by the acerbic Dr. Pulaski. Kate had wondered volubly what the hell everyone was waiting for, then had simply done it.

Leah spent time with the ship, going over the available data on the changes and investigating the adaptations to the engines. She found that Voyager was a very able assistant during those times. She also discovered that she liked Voyager's crew.

They understood fractious. They understood bluntness. They had enough “true characters,” to simply go with the flow. They were the first Starfleet crew she'd been with who didn't treat her like an abrasive crank. They didn't try to over-socialize her. They just accepted and worked with her.

Which meant she felt more social. So she took to eating in the crazy Mess Hall with the rest of them. And loved it.

Because even there, were discoveries to be made. She could write a thesis on Voyager's culture alone. She suspected that Counselor Nael might already have started one. She'd have to talk to her about it.

As with the Lucky Dragon, the rescued persons from Pharaoh System found their own niches – if they wanted to stay. And many of them did. Although, technically, they didn't have much of an option. On the other hand, they were quietly made aware that the Voyagers would help them if they felt the need to disappear onto the station.

Voyager and her crew made final preparations as they drew closer to Terok Nor. Voyager was polished to a high shine on the inside. Rotations for Shore Leave and ship's duty were plotted. Due to unique circumstances, the Prime family were the only ones not scheduled into the ship's duty rosters. Most knew why though it wasn't discussed much.

Anticipation grew as the hours passed.

==^==

There were nerves and there was excitement. Captain Janeway straightened her uniform jacket one more time. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” reassured B'Elanna. “I'd kiss you now, but then we'd never leave.”

Seven walked in on the discussion, looking cool and confident as ever. “We have five minutes. The children are ready.” She paused a moment to kiss Laren warmly.

The Bajoran smiled back, equally warmly. “You look lovely, Seven.” The Borg had chosen to wear an azure knee-length dress, heels and pearls. The rest, since they were officers, wore the new versions of the formal wear – which retained that hint of armor, just with more gold and silver.

Kathryn looked around her in bemusement. “I've lost a pip. How could I lose a pip? It was right here.” She pointed at the counter surface with some asperity.

The Klingon and the Borg looked at each other and shook their heads. Seven took one glance around, spotted the item in question and then went and picked it up. “Stand still, beloved.” She put the final pip in place with familiar ease. “One day I will design a pip locater just for you.”

“And I'd appreciate it, because it would make my life much less frustrating.” She looked around. “Where is Tuvok?”

“He has been dressed and ready for the last fifteen minutes Kathryn. He is spending time in contemplation.”

“Ah. Well, now. I guess I'm ready too.” She caught the amused twinkle in Laren's eyes. “What?”

The Bajoran picked up the comm badge and stepped up to the Captain. “How did you manage without us?”

“Every day I took as a miracle. Plus, I didn't have quite as much to juggle.”

“There is that.” She hooked the comm badge into place. Laren looked back. “What do you think, Seven?”

“Perfection.”

Laren smiled and kissed Kathryn quickly. “I agree.

==^==

Part 22 | Bookmarks

A minute or so later and they made their way to the designated air lock. Voyager, like the IKS Tabor and the IKS Tor'stag, was now connected to the station. The Klingons of the Tabor had already gone on a much deserved Shore Leave. The ones on the Tor'stag were under rotation, like Voyager's crew. General Torres would catch up with the other members of the House Presba at the restaurant. She had a bit of business to conduct.

Kathryn squeezed Mezoti's hand. “Are you ready?”

Her daughter looked up at her like she'd asked a very silly question. Which, thought Kathryn, might indeed be true.

She answered for herself. “Of course you are.” She looked back at her family. Seven of Nine held Emina, who was looking about curiously. B'Elanna smiled warmly at her. Azan and Rebi had that neutral expression which Kathryn had come to interpret as nerves they were unwilling to express. They were holding tightly to Tuvok's hands. Icheb looked calm and handsome in his medical uniform. Laren cocked an eyebrow at her, looking ready for anything.

Kathryn said, “I think perhaps you ought to be the first one through Epatai, after Ensign Chase and Simmons. Then Seven. Then myself with Mezoti, Tuvok with Azan and Rebi, Laren with Icheb. And then the Star Fists.”

B'Elanna looked a little startled then nodded. “You're probably right. Just in case.”

“Ah, the joys of trying to keep up appearances.”

“And that brings us right back to you are beautiful,” quipped the Klingon. Kathryn actually blushed.

Smiling like she was pleased with herself, the Epatai said to Ensign Chase, “Well, what are you waiting for. My mates and my mother are on the other side.”

“Oh. Right... uh... Epatai.” The ensign signaled the guard and the guard pressed the buttons that opened the airlock.

There was a brief security check to make sure the corridor was safe and clear. Then soon they were on their way down the passageway and through the second airlock.

Then it was another long corridor. They walked in silent anticipation, without overtly hurrying. And then they were in the light of the waiting area.

Where they were greeted with lights flashing from imagers and the babble of a much larger group than they'd planned on seeing. On the other hand, those people were cordoned off and their family... their family was right there.

Their mates were right there.

“Oh Kahless.” B'Elanna felt a little weak in the knees at the sight. Yet somehow her legs carried her forward, even as Lwaxana and T'Pel were also moving towards her. Lwaxana was hurrying a little more, carried by strong emotions.

The Klingon and the Betazoid met together in a fierce hug and kiss. The kind that made memorable pictures. The lights flashed again. Then B'Elanna turned and grabbed T'Pel with that same Klingon need to touch and be touched. Their kiss scorched the air around them and the lights were simply an accompaniment. She only let them go because she knew the others were feeling just as urgently needful to feel and hold their mates.

Seven's embrace of Lwaxana was not as fierce, since she had a baby in her arms. But their kiss might have been even steamier, since Lwaxana took the Borg's face in her hands and then kissed her, long and slow like she meant it. Then she kissed and tickled Emina in a way that caused baby giggles of pleasure. Then she turned and there was Kathryn and Lwaxana was embraced warmly and kissed deeply and tearfully.

Seven greeted T'Pel and reached, touching intimately - two fingertips to two fingertips and rejoicing. They held the touch for long moments. Then as one released one another. T'Pel reached for Emina and her daughter reached back without hesitation and a happy burble.

Then the Vulcan turned to greet her Human mate, who was smiling widely, if tearfully at her. “It is so good to see you.” They touched, two fingertips to two, causing a small gasp in Kathryn. The auburn haired woman smiled at what T'Pel had to say, then leaned in for a soft, warm kiss.

T'Pel turned and there was Tuvok standing patiently, waiting. She moved to him in elegance and pride. Their gazes were serene, almost expressionless except to those who knew them. Their fingertips touched and held. “Greetings, my mate.” Tuvok said warmly.

It was practically an embrace, the way their gazes held.

Then he stepped aside, “Laren, your mate, T'Pel.”

The Bajoran, who had more than her share of dazzle from the lights of the holo-imagers, stepped forward. She bowed to her mate, touched two fingers to two. Then drew T'Pel in close and whispered a few words in Bajoran to her mate and kissed her cheek.

By that time Lwaxana and Tuvok were meeting physically for the first time. Their fingers touched, lingered and where he was serene, she was glowing with delight. It was rare that a Betazoid smiled so in public. The lights flared around her constantly.

Then she was greeted by Laren, who first bowed in Bajoran courtesy, then firmly declared Lwaxana's beauty in Bajoran. Lwaxana pulled her close and they kissed warmly, steamily. It was hard to part, but they managed it.

And yes, the fire was there. It was definitely there for all of them. It burned within them, a flaring need. But some things were more important. Things like greeting one's children and greeting one's parents. They would spend time with family and then, there would be time.

The children flowed around them, were hugged and kissed with enthusiasm by Miral and by Gretchen and then by Lwaxana. T'Pel they greeted with hugs that were less exuberant, but just as meaningful to her.

When Miral greeted her daughter, there was a moment of pause. She looked B'Elanna up and down, with her hands on her hips. Then she smiled abruptly. “Just look what you started,” she laughed. Then she opened her arms wide, grabbed her daughter and lifted her off the ground in a massive Klingon hug. B'Elanna had laughed and returned the hug in full.

When Gretchen greeted her daughter there was little hesitation. She just gathered her up into a long hug and rocked Kathryn in her arms for a minute. “I love you, Kathryn. I've missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They separated slowly, looking warmly at one another. They'd almost gotten used to the flash of lights, until then. Kathryn had to ask, especially when she noticed that her Zakeeri crew were looking a bit more fierce and cranky than usual. “How did this happen? I thought this was going to be a family thing.”

Gretchen grimaced. “Somehow the news that the Heroes of Pharaoh System were visiting Terok Nor was leaked.”

“I take it you know who made the leak?”

“Oh yes. We know. It's just proving once again that it will be challenging with her.”

==^==

The security team of Terok Nor had to work hard to corral the efforts of the imagers and journalists that tried to follow the family into the restaurant. Their efforts were helped by the impromptu actions of the Star Fists and Ensigns Chase and Simmons. Xepal had stopped the procession and circled the family. Then they'd drawn arms. Xepal had made a very loud announcement about commencing to fire in three, two...

Suddenly the promenade was much quieter and a lot less light-struck.

“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate having you around Xepal?” Inquired Captain Janeway.

“I believe you have mentioned it in the past, Captain.”

“And I'm sure I will again. Thank you.”

“It is a privilege.”

The restaurant itself was almost completely empty, except for a few Klingon guards, those individuals who kept the establishment running and the head waiter, who opened the doors for them. The guards then stepped out as soon as the family entered. The waiter guided them to a long table that had been prepared with a white cloth and beautiful silver and floral arrangements. He guided the Epatai, who was again leading the group, to the head of the table. Other waiters helped the rest of the family into other seats around the table. Then negotiations about drinks and appetizers began.

A few minutes later, General Torres stalked through the doors as if she owned the place. Holding onto her arm, and walking serenely besides her was Annika Hansen. The adults all stood, including Miral. More, Miral moved around the table until she and the General were staring across from one another.

There were words in their heads. Things they desperately wanted to say to one another. But they were Klingon.

Miral growled and grinned at the same time, grabbed the other woman into a bear hug that would have cracked human bones.

The massive hug was returned, after a few seconds, just as ferociously.

Miral pushed Belle back and held her there for a moment. “Kahless, look at you!” She traced the scar where the eye was missing on her daughter's face with a mix of concern and pride. “That must have quite a story.”

“It does.”

Miral clapped the General on the back. “You must tell us about it.” She turned to greet Annika pleasantly, “Come, both of you. Sit with us and eat.”

It was, for Belle, exactly how she had hoped it would be. Maybe even better.

==^==

The dinner was wonderful, and it went by too soon. But they did have to part ways for a small while. There were some who desperately needed to get home.

“Contact me when you come up for air, “ General Torres said with a grin to the Captain. “You, I and the Epatai have much to discuss.”

Kathryn smiled whimsically at her sister-in-law. “It will be my pleasure. I can hardly wait to see what I've gotten us into this time.”

That just made the Klingon laugh loudly. Then the Prime of House Presba went back up the gateway corridor to board Voyager.

==^==

They were greeted by T'Sai, who bowed out of habit to Miral and raised her hand in the Vulcan greeting to the rest of them. “If it pleases Grand Judge Miral and her mate, Nelav asked me to be your escort to your quarters. There is news of interest.”

“That sounds like our cue.” Gretchen said. She gave a hug to Kathryn. “I will talk to you later when you have time. I look forward to catching up.”

“Me too, Mom.”

“Meanwhile,” said Miral. “How about you let us hang out more with our Grandchildren.” She addressed the youngsters, “Would you like that?”

Azan and Rebi said, “We would find it enjoyable.”

“I concur,” said Mezoti.

Emina just burbled.

Icheb said, “I would be honored, but I have a duty shift in Sickbay. May I take a...” he searched for the correct word, found it. “...raincheck?”

“Of course, puqnI'loD. If you get off duty at a reasonable hour, stop by.”

“Yes, SoSnI'.” His use of Klingon made Miral absurdly happy.

“Maj! We'll see you later then. Come children. T'Sai, lead us on.”

==^==

Kathryn watched with bemusement as their mother-in-laws gathered up the children, like hens gathering chicks, and set forth with barely a moment's hesitation. “B'Elanna, I think your mother may be Klingon.”

“Really? It comes as a surprise to me. I was thinking she was maybe Bolian or ...”

“My mates, you will be left behind,” Seven of Nine pointed out, even as she was heading towards Turbolift 2. She wasn't exactly rushing, but neither was she dawdling. The same could be said of T'Pel, who most logically, knew a good thing when she saw one. And she saw a very good thing walking in front of her. She and Tuvok, who had been touching fingertips since they entered the corridor, walked with appreciable speed.

Laren grinned as she too made her way to the turbolift, bussing Lwaxana in passing. “It would be a shame. There is much to be said about timeliness when it comes to Seven of Nine.”

Lwaxana's lips were twitching in amusement. “You know, I do believe that is a hint my darlings. Besides, now I'm terribly curious about...oh my goodness...” Her eyes went wide with sudden understanding, “... where we will live. Oh sweet Imza. We're home.”

Kathryn clasped her hand. “Yes. You are beloved. I'd kiss you now to celebrate, but I wouldn't be able to stop.” She smiled, but the desire was layered in her expression.

“I know,” said the Betazoid. “Oh. I know.”

They walked together, hand in hand. B'Elanna jogged forward, flashing them a wink in passing. Somehow she managed to be the Turbolift before Seven of Nine stepped inside. “There are some times it just won't do to be left behind,” she quipped as the others stepped in. “Now. If we can keep our hands off of each other for a few more minutes... we will be in good shape.”

The doors to the turbolift swished shut.

“Oh, fuck it,” snarled B'Elanna and she pulled T'Pel and Seven of Nine towards her, with her Vulcan on the left and her Borg on the Right. Then she began kissing one, then the other, then back again until she couldn't see straight. Then T'Pel and Seven would kiss each other, long and hungrily while B'Elanna caught her breath. Then they went back to kissing B'Elanna all over again. Lwaxana watched this with delighted fascination, then laughed at the absurdity of trying to hold off a moment longer. She pulled Kathryn towards her for a kiss to make the pulse thunder and the body yearn.

Lwaxana had Kathryn pushed up against the turbolift wall. She pulled Kathryn's shirt partially up and moved her hand up under it so she could tease Kathryn's nipples into peaks while they kissed.

Laren meanwhile had moved behind Lwaxana and was kissing her neck while her hands were going places they'd never been before.

Only Tuvok was restraining himself. He watched everything with all the appearance of a monk contemplating the highest order of thoughts. In a way he was. He was contemplating everything he was seeing and what he planned on doing about it when they were at last in the Nest.

Seven, while still kissing the half-Klingon, had already pulled B'Elanna's jacket off. She was in process of getting the shirt off with help from T'Pel. While they were doing that the turbolift doors opened.

Tom, Steven and Harry, who were happy in their current relationship and on their mostly innocent way to a night at Sandrines, were treated to a sight that would live within them and feed their fantasies for years.

Seven paused long enough to look back at them with that sexually predatory look still on her face and snapped, “Computer close and lock turbolift doors.” Then, after naming a deck where the turbolift doors would unlock, she returned her attention to what she had been doing.

“Harry. Steve,” said Tom in a strangled voice. “We need to go home. Right now.”

There was no argument from the other two men.

==^==

Before the mates even got to the home floor, Voyager just beamed them into the Nest. Their clothes she absorbed back into the system.

They only noticed the change because the walls that had been supporting them were suddenly gone. The tumble that followed, however, was light, safe and funny enough they adapted quickly. For some reason the laughter by those who could laugh, just made the whole thing sexier.

It was good to be with one another so fully.

The tumble had shifted them about. T'Pel lay cradled in Kathryn's arm, being kissed in adoration, sweetly and hotly first by the Human. Then by her Bajoran.

“You're so beautiful,” Kathryn whispered to the Vulcan, while Laren occupied T'Pel's attention with liquid fire kisses. “I remember thinking that when I first met you. I never imagined this, but I am glad for it.” T'Pel pulled breathlessly back from the kiss. Kathryn gazed into warm, serious brown eyes and one hand drifted sensually over lovely chocolate skin. Then she leaned in and kissed, then licked the sensitive tips of T'Pel's pointed ears in soft strokes, like a cat.

T'Pel reached up and pulled Kathryn in for another long, purring kiss. Their embrace tightened. Light seemed to spark behind Kathryn's eyelids, as she felt T'Pel's love and desire thrill through their contact. It wrapped around the mates like a cloak against the rain.

Then Tuvok, who had waited quite long enough, pulled T'Pel away from Kathryn and Laren. But only for a moment. Just long enough for a soul burning reconnection of a kiss, one that expressed the longing of years. The kiss ached through them all and then clicked.

Something slid right in the mates with that kiss, as if a piece of a greater puzzle had found its match. They all drew breath as one, exhaled as one, thought as one, for a small eternity. “Beloved.” On some unknowable, unspoken signal, they broke off again into their individual, but linked awarenesses.

Thereafter it was the blaze that took them. They were fearless with each other, touching and being touched. Filling and being filled. They rose to each other's call, thrilled to the demand of their mates.

The mates' lovemaking began in earnest. Their skin soaked in the touches of their loved ones like a sweet, nourishing, but very sexy balm.

Lwaxana was being treated to torrid kisses by B'Elanna and Seven. Her natural exuberance was beginning to rise to the surface in bubbles of joy. They popped ecstatically and erotically through the mates. She had waited so long and it felt so right, so miraculous to be in their arms at last.

B'Elanna's own noises of pleasure were deepening as her need grew. She drew her lips down Lwaxana's long neck, nibbling lightly. Her hands roved, finding wonderful places to pause and stroke, from breast to behind the knees and then back up to warm wet center. There she found that Betazed too had a point of redundancy. “Oh,” the Klingon exclaimed in delighted surprise. Unlike hers, which were like reflections, Lwaxana's was like a dual ridge, one small mountain top attached to another. “Oooh. I like this,” B'Elanna purred.

She felt the Betazed clutch her reflexively. Lwaxana wrapped her legs around B'Elanna, thrust against the glorious intimate touch. 'More!' What could B'Elanna do, but obey. She filled the Betazoid, thrusting with growling pleasure.

She felt Lwaxana growing closer and closer to her release. Then felt the tenderness behind a new demand that suddenly blazed through. 'Claim me!'

The bite was instant, the blood sweet. Heat and power flowed through them, as the mating bond took hold. The taste sang loudly though her. Her hands moved and she grabbed Lwaxana to bring her closer. She wrapped her arms around Lwaxana's back and felt the Betazoid's wetness slide against her belly. She heard the exultation behind the pained shout. Then she lifted her mouth up and was captured by hungry lips.

By that time Seven of Nine slid behind her Klingon. She moved loving hands over beautiful breasts, pausing to play at the nipples and tease before moving down B'Elanna's sleek stomach. The Klingon knew Seven stopped and stayed a moment to touch the Betazoid intimately. She felt Lwaxana rock against that divine attention, and knew through their link where Seven of Nine was heading next as her other hand moved to delicately brush against B'Elanna's center too. Then the pressure expertly deepened and the Klingon also couldn't help moving. “Oh...”

Lwaxana's kisses drifted to Seven, briefly fooling B'Elanna. Pleasure was flushing so thoroughly through her. Then Lwaxana's mouth covered the Klingon's shoulder, first in a kiss. Then in a piercing bite. B'Elanna rocketed right into Eros' space, and Lwaxana was soon flying after her. Heat and power flowed through them, as the mating bond took hold. Because of their link, the others who had also been following ecstasy's path toppled into pleasure like dominoes being kicked over.

At one point Lwaxana was being claimed by Tuvok. She found his movement as he pressed and thrust inside her profoundly arousing. His release was even more so. She was brought to the great heights often because his physical touch was firm and mental touch was delicate, even in its insistent summons. What she also loved was that each mate's touch was unique, flavored by their personality. So, even with her eyes closed, she knew it was Laren who was playing with her breasts or Seven who was kissing her till breathless or Kathryn who laved Lwaxana's center with her tongue when Tuvok finally rested. She clung to them through the wonderful rise and falls and then reciprocated with all that she was.

At another point it was T'Pel's expression of sheer want which finally goaded her Klingon into the mating bite. After the bite, the Vulcan had actually grasped B'Elanna by the hair, growled like a Klingon and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Then, when B'Elanna was seeing stars, T'Pel bit the smaller woman in return.

The Klingon was gone for awhile. She roared and T'Pel was soon on her back being thoroughly ravished. It only got better.

Seven of Nine's bliss was summoned by Kathryn and Laren. Lwaxana and T'Pel finally, really understood what their mates had been trying to convey about what happened with the lovely ex-drone. She sparkled and her pleasure was incredibly sweet and intense along their link.

As Seven rested, Lwaxana gathered the younger woman into her arms and ran her fingertips along the silver and light pathways. She watched as the strobing lights changed color and followed the trail of the touch. “And you wonder why they think it's puzzle,” she teased. “By Imza, you are gorgeous when you Ascend.”

Seven had smiled, “As are you, my mate.” She pulled in the Betazoid for a steamy kiss and another round was sparked as if they had just gone into it fresh.

Eventually they all rested. Eventually they ate, drank, bathed, rested more and talked. Eventually.

==^==

Dr. Pulaski had decided to pretty much forget about shore leave this go around. She still had patients in recovery and there were too many hazards for her to be that interested in going out there on her own. Besides, she'd promised Kat... Captain Janeway, that she would only go out there with one of them. And that certainly wasn't likely to happen.

So she was in her office, going over one of the patient's records, finalizing some of the entries and deciding on the follow up. She looked up at the sound of the Sickbay entrance chime and stood up, wondering who or what it could be. Voyager hadn't mentioned an emergency.

Her jaw actually dropped when she saw the two people in front of her. Seven of Nine she might have expected, but the other...

The Betazoid smiled warmly at her old friend. “Dear, I hear you have been giving Kathryn a terrible time. Not that she hasn't deserved it. But, darling, in good conscience, I can't let either of you suffer for much longer. It just won't do.”

Kate found her voice, “Lwaxana? What are you doing here?

“I'd think my purpose is obvious, dear. I'm here with my mate, Seven of Nine, to ask you out on a date.”

==^==


End file.
